


Weather My Emotions

by hiccupfound



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, F/M, HEA, Hogwarts Era, Sexually confident Hermione, Sexy Times, Smut, Trigger Warning: depression, emotions controlled by outside force, war time era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiccupfound/pseuds/hiccupfound
Summary: Draco was seven when he realized his emotions were controlled by the weather.In which puberty mixed with the howling winds of Scotland thrusts Draco together with Hermione Granger in hidden alcoves and deserted classrooms.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 220
Kudos: 721





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I'm gonna take a break from wiritng as a reward for finishing my wip!  
> Also me, a week later: Anyways here 7k words of a smutty oneshot my brain came up with at 4:30 am while wine drunk and couldn't let go, apparently.

Draco was seven when he realized his emotions were controlled by the weather. 

For a while he was sure it was the other way around. He thought that the reason the blue skies clouded with deep, grey clouds was because his mood had turned sour after watching his mother follow his screaming father inside, or he’d fallen and scraped his knee while climbing the apple tree out front. The closer the thunder came, the wetter his eyes became until he couldn’t hold back anymore and the tears began to fall just as the first splashes of rain hit the concrete outside.

Soon, much too soon for him to actually be soothed, the summer sky would clear and he went from bawling child to a grinning mess. The house elf that had been put in charge of him watched on with baffled disbelief until one day she dragged him to his mother’s study, ranting about dark magic at work.

His mother had listened closely, eyebrows drawn in confusion as she eyed Draco. He sat in his chair, tall and quietly like he’d been taught, suppressing the urge to giggle. 

“Mummy, can I go back outside?” He had waited patiently, and their voices were so low they couldn’t possibly expect him to keep up.

His mother hesitated, looking to the elf, who jerked her head towards Draco, before rising from her desk.

“I could go for a walk myself, dear. Shall we go out together?”

Draco jumped up and down excitedly. Mother so rarely played outside with him. She was so often busy with father’s business endeavors. Elves watched him from dawn until dinner, and then he was often too exhausted to stay up much past bath time. He never got to see his mother.

When he was ten, his mother confronted him about his moods. Draco provided her with an explanation excitedly.

“When the sun’s bright I want to laugh and run around. When the moon is out my eyes are so very heavy.”

His mother nodded, lifting her tea cup to her lips. When she placed it back on the saucer, Draco noted her hands were shaking. “And what of your emotions when it rains? Snows? Hails?”

Draco turned his head to the side, pondering. 

“Anytime the sun is hidden during the day time, I feel grouchy, at least a little sad. When it rains I want to cry.” Draco lifted his chin proudly. “Though I’ve gotten better at keeping the tears away.”

His mother gave him a sad smile. 

“The snow makes me a bit angry. The harder it comes, the quicker I am to want to be mean.” Last winter when the snow had begun falling he’d given into the urge to pull on Pansy’s pigtails. It hadn’t been as satisfying as he’d thought. 

“Are there any other moods you feel are influenced by the weather?” she pressed.

Draco twisted his lips in thought, but shook his head, he lifted his hand and began listing off on his fingers. “Happy, sad, angry. That about covers it for the emotions, don’t you think?”

His mother had opened her mouth, but snapped it close. She gave him a stern warning about keeping this  _ phenomenon,  _ from others. 

"No one finds out, Draco. No matter how safe you think it is to tell them, they cannot know.”

Draco, frightened, merely nodded his assent. 

After all, three emotions for three different types of weather. It wasn’t hard to keep track of.

\---

Draco was so, so naive. 

The weather in Britain was hard enough to contend with, but it seemed Scotland’s goal was to make sure he stayed thoroughly unhappy.

Sunshine is Scotland was more of a rumor or a state of mind than anything else. In his first few months of Hogwarts he had felt the rays on his skin a handful of times. It rained a lot. If it wasn’t drizzling then it was so perpetually gloomy outside that it might as well have been.

Draco learned to transform his sadness into anger. It was easier to stomach than the lead that dragged through his bones when he fought back the tears, and now he had gained a reputable reputation. In Slytherin, fear was power, and the best way to ensure power was to be so hopelessly mean that you frightened those around you into submission. 

He became a leader quickly.

When he thought he’d no longer be able to bear the dreadful weather any longer, the snow storms began when term resumed in January. Fury burned through Draco like a potion caught on fire by Finnegan. He took to flying through the temperamental weather just to exhaust himself enough to sleep at night. The exhaustion still hit once the moon shone, but the anger seemed to be stronger than any other emotion he’d ever experienced. The snow seeped into his bones, freezing his joints until he was stiff and irritated and ready to lash out at anyone.

He did, and often. Foul words fell from his lips like prose from a poet. He spent more time speaking with blind anger than he did anything else.

When the summer came and the first rays of sunshine peaked through the gloomy atmosphere, Draco felt he could breathe for the first time since he’d boarded the train to Hogwarts in September.

His years carried on like this, with any remnants of happiness slipping away as soon as the summer months disappeared and not resurfacing until the sweltering heat made it debut around the end of May.

Draco could deal with that. His father was an angry man and while he sometimes felt guilt for his mother about this, overall he seemed to be able to function okay. Draco didn’t mind the solemn moods, not really. Anger was easier to deal with than most anything else and during the months of July and August he even found he hated how carefree and light he felt. What was there to be happy about, anyway? As time carried on darkness seemed to encompass the Wizarding world and happiness felt like a waste of time when there was so much awful in the world. He wanted to dwell on it.

In October, the whipping winds always began. They raged off and on for the majority of the winter season, but Draco had never bothered acknowledging them because they’d never affected him. Draco knew he was dense and selfish in this way. If it didn’t  _ need  _ to involve him or if he didn’t want to be there then he didn’t give it a second thought. Later, when he was forced to take the Dark Mark he would wonder if there was more he could have done to show exactly how indifferent he was about the entire wizarding war.

One icy morning during Draco’s fourth year, he awoke, painfully  _ stiff. _

And not just in the normal way. Draco was more than familiar with morning wood and the discomfort that came with it. This was different. This was a heat spreading from his crotch all the way to his fingertips and toes. It was a dire need that couldn’t—  _ wouldn’t  _ be ignored. Draco was sweating, hands trembling as he reached for his wand to silence the drapes around his bed. 

He was no stranger to masturbation or urges, but this was truly off the charts. He stroked himself less than a handful of times before he was spurting hot come with a suppressed grunt. 

_ That  _ had never happened. He enjoyed his sessions, sure, but his limbs were tingling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. It was unreal. He was exhausted, spent and wanted nothing more than to curl back up and go to sleep.

But there was a Transfiguration practical today, and McGonagall was unlikely to accept extreme horniness as a reason he’d be unable to attend class. Besides, he had handled the situation. It was hormones and puberty rearing their ugly heads. 

About twenty minutes later, while he was sitting at the breakfast table, Pansy plopped down across from him. She greeted him politely, and delicately plated herself some eggs and porridge. They hadn’t much been real friends before, but there were rumours that the Parkinson family was desperate for a good match for their daughter, their only heir. Malfoy didn’t mind the extra attention, but as fascinating as Pansy was, he had no interest in dating her.

That was, of course, until he caught a whiff of her perfume, that travelled from the nape of her neck, through his nostrils and hit painfully at his cock. 

Draco jerked his spine straight. Pansy eyed him warily.

“Draco, are you all right?”

“Quite fine,” he said, in what he was proud to consider a steady and dry voice. “Are you wearing a new perfume?”

“No,” she mixed some strawberries into her oats. “The same I have since second year.” She looked up at him and frowned. “Has it gone sour?”

Draco cleared his throat. “No. It’s just— are you wearing more of it today?”

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and pasted her patented mean girl glare on him. “What are you insinuating about me?”

Draco threw his hands up in surrender, pretending to turn back to his sausages and toast. He went to take a bite, but then realized his mouth was desert dry. He took a sip of his pumpkin juice, hoping the cold beverage would cool his blood a bit.

_ Puberty can’t honestly be this awful all the time, right? _

And after spending the entire day with a stiffy, jerking in the bathroom with obscenely satisfying releases between classes and staring after any woman that licked their lips, Draco woke up the next morning feeling much more normal. He even remembered to compliment Pansy’s perfume at lunch.

“I’ve gone without today,” she said stiffly, nose in the air.

That had been the end of their budding romance, if one even had the gall to call it that.

A few weeks later, when he awoke to the fever that could only be associated with the painful need to stick his dick into anything that would allow it, he noticed the blustery winds. Only because he had struggled to keep his robes closed over his erection as he headed down to the greenhouses. He’d remembered this from the last time as well.

Surely it was just a fluke. Strong winds were  _ not  _ why he was staring lustfully at Hermione Granger’s full, pink mouth as she answered a question he hadn’t even heard.

He was so, so  _ fucked. _

Draco managed to make it through the rest of fourth year relatively unscathed. The horniness was uncomfortable, yes, but at least it gave him a distraction. The world had fallen apart but his relentless cock would keep him busy anytime the winds speed reached above twenty miles per hour.

Before the start of fifth year, Draco had been made a prefect. His mother showered him in praise and gifts before sending him off, shiny new badge attached to his uniform. He was excited, actually. Draco loved power, and any extra being afforded to him was a step in the right direction.

He patrolled with Granger twice a week, because his Quidditch practices made him unavailable on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and her study group for Ancient Runes, which he ruefully attended (the witch knew what she was talking about, and damn it if he didn’t want an O.W.L in it this year), took place on Tuesday nights. This left him available for Thursday and Sunday shifts, as Satrudays were devoted to Quidditch, either watching or playing. 

He didn’t mind. By now he had become used to the lack of sun and the bitter mood that accompanied the grey skies, as had everyone around him. He was rude and no one questioned it. He hadn’t, either.

Besides the often thrown insults, they were both quite fine with walking in silence, otherwise they engaged in quizzing each other on whatever subject had an upcoming test. Somehow this always turned into a competition as to who could ask the tougher question and who was able to throw out the most obscure knowledge. Draco was losing three to five and  _ damn it  _ if it didn’t have him reviewing N.E.W.T level transfiguration spells just so he could gloat over Granger about one more thing. He already had blood superiority, hair and manners. Brains was the ticket.

Except one Thursday in November, Draco awoke to the whistling winds that splashed the Black Lake’s waves against their dorm window. Draco was flushed and rutting against his sheets. He came not long after, biting down on his knuckle to keep himself silent. 

He snatched his wand from the side table and cleaned up the mess. He sat up and threw his head into his hands as the cool that had fallen over him dissipated after only a few minutes. He felt his cock harden.

It was the first time since he’d returned to school that this had happened. It was more intense than last year, and not for the first time Draco wondered if this wouldn’t be an issue that would absolve itself after his teenage years were over.

Still, he couldn’t stay in bed. He had assignments to turn in and rounds to complete later tonight. He would have to suck ( _ ugh _ ) it up.

He sat at breakfast with a plate of toast in front of him, untouched, and stared, wide eyed as Daphne Greengrass ate a banana. Salazar, when had they even procured the ability to get tropical fruit at Hogwarts? Someone was well and truly spiting him and he fought the urge to rub himself against the table and finish what Daphne had started. 

On his way to the bathroom before class his cock rubbed teasingly against his pants as the winds howled through the open windows above. Draco had hardly closed the stall door before he was spilling into his trousers with a quiver so strong his legs gave out. He sat on the toilet, panting and shaking with an absolute sticky mess coating his hands and thighs. He’d never felt more childish.

When it came time for his prefect patrol, he’d been ready to grovel with Pansy to trade with him. His sanity was on the brink with each subsequent boner and he wasn’t sure what two hours with Granger would do for him. Certainly nothing good.

But he could already hear her snobbish voice telling him off for not finding cover within the recommended two days and if there was one thing he hated, it was Hermione Granger’s holier than thou attitude. 

So, he met her at the Prefect’s bathroom like they did every Thursday. She was already there, leaning against the wall with a book open in one hand. Draco stopped, inspecting her long legs that he’d never appreciated, and then took a deep breath. He could do this. If there was any girl that would turn him off enough to get through this, it would be the mudblood Granger.

“Thought you’d bailed,” she said, not bothering to look up from her book. Her eyes continued down the page until she reached the end, and then she snapped it shut. She glanced up at him, the corners of her mouth quirked up into a tiny smile.

Draco swallowed. His dick twitched. Above them, the wind swept through an empty window. Granger shuttered.

“I hate the windy season. Honestly, isn’t the cold enough?”

Draco nodded his assent. “Finally, something we can agree on.”

They continued on in silence for a while, the corridors unnaturally quiet.

“The weather must have scared them away.” She returned from checking behind a popular tapestry.

“They must not want it bad enough.”

Draco repressed the urge to slam his eyes shut. Why did he just naturally know the exact words that would rile Granger up?

“Are you implying that our classmates are unable to control their urges?”

“I’m saying,” he began, walking a pace or two in front of her, “that if the action was good enough, they wouldn’t be able to.”

Granger rolled her eyes. He wasn’t looking at her but he could tell by the way she paused before speaking again.

“They’re not animals, Malfoy.”

“If the sex is good enough.”

“And you’d know about that?”

No, but if sex was anything like the orgasm he’d had five minutes before meeting up with her then he could imagine. 

“Not everyone has their nose buried in a book every day, Granger.” He turned to face her. “Some of us learn by doing.”

Granger scoffed. “Are you implying that I don’t—”

“You said it,” he threw his hands in the air, “not me.”

“I learn in any way I can. I just don’t feel the need to let someone grope me in the hallways after hours.”

“If the need was strong enough, you would.” He snatched a tapestry aside and checked behind it. Nothing. He tried to keep his cool demeanour and pretend like his cock wasn’t throbbing in his pants at every intonation of her voice. 

“I would  _ never  _ be that desperate.”

“Desperate?” He turned on her. “As if you’ve experienced any sort of sexual need in your life.”

Her face flushed and she averted eye contact. Bingo.

“I know myself well enough that I would never allow myself to get into a situation where—”

But Draco couldn’t take it anymore. Her soft voice was travelling straight to his groin and the small way her hips shimmied as she walked was too tempting. He shoved her against the wall and smashed his lips onto hers, hard and desperate. He threw his hands into her hair and pulled lightly, until her head was angled so he could slip his tongue between her lips.

And she was willing. Maybe not desperate, but she responded in earnest, kissing back and letting his hands explore from her shoulders down to her hips, where he pulled her against his. He groaned. The feeling was euphoria, ten times better than anything he had experienced all day. Granger stayed silent, but a gasp escaped from her lips. 

His hands moved around to grip her arse and hold her firmly against him. She pushed her hips against his and he replied back enthusiastically. He continued his heated kisses against her mouth until she was desperate and pulling back for breath. He kissed down her neck, licking from her pulse point down to her collar bone, which he nipped at, lightly at first, but upon seeing her reaction he bit hard enough to leave a mark. She let out her first moan and Draco swallowed against the urge to blow his load.

Her hands moved under his shirt and gripped against his shoulder blades, pulling him tight until they were chest to chest and the only thing between them were their clothes. He kneed her thighs open and slid a leg between and she rode it shamelessly and without thought. Draco rutted against her in turn and they stood, two prefects in an empty, open hallway going at it as if they were in the privacy of a single bedroom. 

Truthfully, he was much more concerned with his release than her own, but when her breathing caught and she stood still and stiff, small trembles flowing through her body— he was ecstatic. So happy that he came with enough enthusiasm to wake the portraits above them. He didn’t care, not when all the pent up energy of the day seemed to be leaving him fastidiously. 

They stood afterwards with Draco’s head tucked into the space by her ear and Granger’s face resting against his chest. When the afterglow wore off enough for him to gather his bearings, he  _ scourgified  _ his pants and pulled back. 

“Never be that desperate, right?”

He walked forward and they completed the rest of rounds as if the incident had never happened. He quizzed her on the History of Magic exam that would take place tomorrow.

She didn’t miss a single question. By the end of the night, Draco was painfully hard once more.

\---

During the next two weeks things returned to normal. Neither of them mentioned what had happened and Draco was fine with it being that way. He’d enjoyed himself, sure, but honestly it could have been Potter with a wig on and he might have still indulged. 

When he woke up on Thursday half a month after their hallway escapade and the waves were slamming against the window once more, Draco was almost excited. 

He waited as long as he could between orgasms, not wanting to waste any of his energy on much else besides his plans on seducing Granger during rounds.

He was early to the Prefect’s bathroom, and he waited anxiously for her to arrive. She walked up slowly, hands in her pockets. When the wind howled above, she glanced up with a sigh.

“Probably another slow night for us, then.”

Malfoy nodded. “Pity.”

They were arguing this time. Something about the properties of lacewing flies in polyjuice potion, fresh versus dried, he thinks. He wasn’t listening, not truly. He watched as he ran his mouth about something he was pretty sure was false just to see the flush stain her face as her temper grew. Right before he was sure she’d turn and slap him, he pulled her into an alcove and slammed her against the wall.

Her eyes were confused for only a moment before his mouth was on hers, burning away all her questions. She kissed him without holding back this time, just as vicious and needy as he was. She pulled at his hair and licked at the seams of his mouth until he was moaning and then she was exploring him. Her hands wandered down his back while her tongue swiped at his teeth and she pressed it against the roof of his mouth. He let her take part in it, enjoying that he felt a lot less like he was tricking her this time around.

When her hands flew to the belt on his pants, he nearly wept in gratefulness. While he was sure humping in this alcove would be just as satisfying as the last, he knew more skin contact could only lead to better results.

She took him in her hands and he was surprised to see she seemed to know what she was doing. She pumped, squeezed and twisted in all the right ways, going faster and then slowing down  _ just  _ as he was close. She continued this until he had to break away and place his head against her neck, panting.

“You tease,” he managed to get out.

She scoffed. “Consider it punishment for being an annoying prat.”

He moaned, slipping his hands under her skirt and into her knickers before the conversation could make her think twice about what she was engaging in.

He slipped a finger through her folds and the warmth caused him to buck extra hard into her hand. 

"You’re so wet,” he said, raising his head to pepper sloppy kisses along her jawline, reveling in the way her breath caught. She was so quiet both times and he wanted to hear her feeling as out of control as he was. “Did you know being with me in a corner of Hogwarts could possibly get you so worked up?”

A tiny sound escaped her lips and he pulled back to see her eyes were shut. She continued with her movements against his cock. It was the best feeling Draco had ever experienced. Hermione Granger, jerking him off while she moaned in his ear was better than flying on a warm sunny day. 

He rubbed her lightly and she pushed hard against his hand.    


“More,” she whispered. Draco wanted to beg for a bigger reaction from her but he could see what it was taking to even say that, so he obliged, not willing to push his luck.

He thumbed her clit while his other hand moved to her center, inserting one finger slowly.

It was sinful. Her warmth rivaled that of a hot bath in a sauna. She tightened on the finger and threw her head back, chest arching off the wall. She picked up the pace and Draco could feel himself losing control. Before he could even pump his finger into her twice, he was finishing in hot spurts against her uniform shirt, staining her Gryffindor tie with his come.

She leaned into it, quiet noises falling from her lips. When he had gained his bearings again he pumped into her slowly, relishing in the way she moved against his hand. He added another finger and circled in fast motions against her clit.

She pulled him into a rough kiss as she came, the feeling of her walls pulsing against his fingers hardening his cock once more. He didn’t care, not when he had Hermione Granger orgasming against him.

When they were done, Granger looked down at her tie and frowned. She  _ scourgified  _ the mess and glared at Draco.

“You did that on purpose.”

With that, she was walking away and asking about his Charms homework that was due tomorrow.

\---

The next day of gusty winds took place on the following Tuesday. Draco groaned against the searing heat that encapsulated his body, much worse than he’d ever experienced.

He thought of Granger and the breasts he hadn’t managed to touch yet as he pumped himself. When he finished, he imagined it was onto her chest while she flew into her own mind bending orgasm.

When he came down, the dread began to set in. 

Because today was not a prefect duty day.

He wouldn’t be able to fool around with Granger.

Draco spent the morning in classes surreptitiously casting cooling charms on himself and biting back groans of pleasure when the seam of his trousers rubbed against his aching cock. He avoided eye contact of Granger, and acted even colder than usual to anyone that approached him. The lack of proper release left him even more short tempered than normal.

Masturbation wasn’t cutting it anymore. It staved him off for a bit, sure, but after feeling Granger’s warm grip around him, nothing else would do, except for maybe her mouth.

He arrived at her study group ghastly early because he knew she’d already be there. He plopped into the seat directly next to her. She didn’t look up at him, just continued to write on her parchment as if this was a normal occurrence. Malfoy, coming to study with her in the library should surprise her so much she should be on the floor with shock. Instead, she wrote painfully slow, finishing her sentence before placing her quill down and planting a questioning glance on him.

He lifted his eyes from her chest, where he had been watching it rise and fall evenly. The top button was undone but she was still pristinely covered, and wondering what was underneath seemed to work him up more than seeing them possibly could have.

By the time she’d acknowledged him he was breathing unevenly. He could feel the flush spread across his face. Sweat rolled down his back. Her big brown eyes set on him in an innocent look tore a quiet groan from his throat. He placed a palm on her thigh, where her skirt hem skimmed her bare skin.

Granger’s brow furrowed in confusion before it dawned on her.

“Are you crazy?” She slapped his palm away. “We’re in the library and I’m expecting a group of about ten people in less than an hour.”

But Draco didn’t care, couldn’t as he watched her cheeks tinge red. She wasn’t embarrassed, and for the first time Draco considered that she might actually enjoy this type of attention from him. Perhaps it would take less convincing than he thought.

He placed his hand back on her thigh, higher this time, fingers disappearing under her skirt. He heard her breath stutter.

“We can’t,” she insisted in a hushed voice. “We’ll be expelled if Umbridge catches us.”

Expulsion was the least of his issues as his cock throbbed in his pants. He resisted the urge to buck into the feeling. His index finger kissed the seams of her knickers, asking, waiting. He placed his heated glance back on hers. 

She hesitated, looking around. They weren’t in the best hidden corner of the library, but because the group was large they were towards the back so their noise wouldn’t cause too much of a disruption.

She eyed him disbelievingly for a moment. Outside, the winds banged incessantly on a creaky window nearby. Understanding seemed to dawn on her, but he didn’t have time to delve too deep into it before she was ducking under the table and between his legs.

“Not a sound,” she warned, undoing his belt and opening his trousers. He sighed against the movement, tension leaving his shoulders immediately. Granger grabbed her wand off the table and cast a silencing charm before placing it on the floor beside her.

She wasted no time. Pumping him a few times was all it took to get him squirming in his seat.

“Be still,” she scolded. “If anyone looks this way they need to believe you’re simply sitting here studying.”

He nodded, taking a few deep breaths before pulling the book Granger had just been bent over towards him and pretending to read. When her tongue licked at his tip, he threw his head back and thrust his hips upward. She pulled back.

“If you can’t follow directions then I  _ will  _ stop.”

If she stopped now, Draco thought he might actually combust. He leant forward once more and stilled his squirming hips, with much effort. Granger waited a moment longer before sinking her mouth deep onto him. Draco’s hands tightened around the edges of the book, trying to ground himself and think of anything else, whatever would make this last longer.

She moved between licking up his cock, sucking harshly and bobbing her head up and down in a torturously slow manner. A few minutes in and Draco was sure he might actually lose his mind before she finished him.

He moved his hand down and laced his fingers through her hair, pulling tightly against her scalp. She moaned and sucked particularly hard, the pressure of her mouth drawing his release directly from his balls. He felt them tighten as she moved a hand to cradle them lightly.

He came with a repressed groan, elbows on the table in front of him and hands covering his face in case anyone was watching. Perhaps he would be able to play off the pose as him attempting to soothe a headache.

But he wasn’t in pain. Far, far from it. She continued to bob lightly against him as he thrust into her mouth, until he was laying back against the chair, completely spent. 

Just a moment later she was slipping his soft dick back into his trousers and zipping him up. She reappeared in the chair next to him, snatching the book from in front of him and opening up to the same page she had been on before. She picked up her quill and began taking notes once more. 

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. Her cheeks were still flushed and she was squirming slightly in the seat. Draco reached for her leg once more, but she twisted in her seat and dodged his touch.

“We’ve pushed our luck in here enough tonight, don’t you think?”

He opened his mouth to argue. She cut him off.

“Don’t worry. You’ll find a way to pay back the debt, I’m sure.”

The insinuation in her tone had his cock growing hard once more. He said nothing, but unpacked his materials and pretended to catch up on his reading, speaking only to answer the intermittent questions Granger threw at him.

The study group came and Draco sat in the same spot with the usual sneer pasted on his face. He would never tell anyone, but he actually quite enjoyed it. It was always nice to be able to extend himself outside of his usual Slytherin companions. Truthfully, it was refreshing to have an intellectual conversation that wasn’t coded or nuanced. 

The group was a rather large one considering how early in the year it was, and he suspected it would only grow as time went on. Granger spent the majority of the time leading the discussion, but as others began to understand the material better, she spoke less and less. Today, Draco was grateful for that. Her voice alone seemed to be enough to have his thoughts drift from Egyptian coding to the sound of her soft moans in his ear, the feel of her body against his as she came.

He shook himself.  _ Focus.  _ Thinking about Granger’s tits right now would be a disservice if he couldn’t touch them. He vowed to himself that next time, he would unbutton her shirt and find out if they felt as amazing as they looked. 

He didn’t dwell on the fact that he automatically assumed there’d be a next time. He didn’t spare a passing thought on the truth that was he hadn’t lusted after any other women today. 

Just Granger.

It didn’t matter. She was just there when he’d needed it most and she’d proven herself to be willing. And she was good. Why would he choose anyone else?

When the group ended, Draco took his time packing up his materials, watching as the others bid their goodbyes and left back to their dorms or common rooms. When Granger threw her bag onto her shoulder, he stood.

“Shall I walk you back to Gryffindor tower?”

She pursed her lips. “It would be the pureblood gentleman thing to do.”

“My mother would have my head if I did otherwise,” he agreed.

They’d only made it past two classroom doors before he wrenched one open and placed her on top of a desk. He’d kept his dirty thoughts at bay while academics were happening. For that he deserved a reward. He planned to indulge.

He’d thought that she may try to fight, to put on a hard act to keep things exciting, though he wasn’t sure how it could get any better than this.

Hermione Granger, straddling his waist in an abandoned classroom in Hogwarts after she’d sucked him off in the library. It was the stuff of fantasy, yet here she was. Moaning into his mouth as his hands slowly glided down her ribs and under her shirt.

Her breasts were everything he’d fantasized, and more. He dove under her bra and tweaked at her pert nipples. She pulled her arms around his shoulder blades, keening against the movement. Her legs wrapped around his hips and they spent a few moments rutting against each other until Draco picked her up, set her lightly on the floor and moved his head down and under her skirt.

She moaned, louder than he’d heard yet as his fingers slipped under the seams of her damp knickers. The warmth and wetness he felt nearly made a mess in his own trousers.

She still stayed mostly silent as he pressed his tongue lightly against her clit, moving between large, slow circles and applying enough pressure that she threw her head back. He could tell she was enjoying herself, though he wouldn’t complain if she ever felt comfortable enough to become loud. 

When he inserted a finger inside of her she let out a desperate sounding moan and moved her hands down to his own pants, breaking him free in record time. It was a bit of an awkward position, but neither seemed to mind.

Her ministrations against his cock were fast and rough, a testament to the worked up state he’d gotten her into. He picked up the pace inside of her, circling her clit faster until their paces matched. 

He came first, spurting against her exposed stomach with reckless abandon, groaning progressively louder with each release. Just when he was coming back down, he felt her walls clench against his fingers and her mouth was on his shoulder and her hands were on his neck, squeezing lightly, fingernails digging into his skin. It was glorious to watch her come undone, almost better than his own release.

When they were done, they straightened their robes and began discussing a point Ernie Macmillan had brought up in the study group. It wasn’t stinted or awkward, and Draco found comfort in the easy way they transitioned from desperate and needing to casual students working on bettering themselves through schooling. This wasn’t anything it didn’t have to be. 

He walked her back to Gryffindor tower, as promised. When she stood by the portrait and said goodbye, he felt a strange urge to lean forward and kiss her. But then the picture swung open and several third years were pouring out and the moment was ruined. He bid her goodbye with a wave and headed back to the dungeons.

\---

Over the next few weeks, the weather remained dull, dreary and stagnant. Not even a singular breeze could be felt outside. Draco awoke everyday with his normal morning hard on and nothing more.

He found himself disappointed each time. He liked being with Granger. He could admit this freely, because the wind and his subsequent horniness was just the excuse he needed to explain this in his mind. As long as he was out of his wits horny there wasn’t anymore reasoning needed as to why he always chose Granger. 

He couldn’t be with her if his body wasn’t urging him to do so. That would be crossing a line, somehow he knew. She never pushed, even though there had been no sensical pattern to his pursuing her. She was perfectly content to continue their traditions of exchanging outright insults when they weren’t trying to one up the other with their lesser known facts and knowledge.

When he awoke on a Wednesday just before Christmas break to an all too familiar ache in his groin, he was almost excited. He mastrubated in record time and then was off to breakfast, feeling less irritated than he had in days.

He had a free period that morning and he’d decided that it was best spent away from any other human. He was so, so desperate to see Granger that he found himself trying to justify approaching her in the middle of the day. Could he find a proper excuse to get her alone? 

No, he really shouldn’t risk it. It would raise more questions than it would solve. In fact, the only thing it would fix was his raging hard on, and even that would be temporary.

So he chose an isolated alcove towards the back of the castle and sat in an elevated window that was cracked open so the blustery breeze blew in. Normally it would be much too cold for anyone to stand, but his skin was fever hot and the wind helped keep him in his right mind.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

He turned to see Granger, climbing up into the seat across from him with a wicked grin pasted on her face. He cocked his head to the side.

“How did you find me?”

“I have my ways.” The glint in her eyes hinted at mischief and he didn’t doubt it for a second. She may have a clean record, but Draco knew better. It didn’t mean she didn’t get into trouble, just that she’d not been caught. Yet.

“And to what honour do I owe this?” he asked drily. He might be excited to see her, but he couldn’t let her know that. He had a reputation to uphold.

She chucked her chin towards the window. “It’s windy out.”

“Yes, quite an observation from the Brightest Witch of Her Age.”

“It makes you barmy.”

He froze. 

Stupid, dumb, no good Gryffindors and there insistance at saying exactly what they thought. It was so blunt and brash that he couldn’t even cover his shock at her observation. It took him a moment too long, but he schooled his expression into one of indifference and shrugged. 

“It makes me uneasy.”

Her eyes moved down to his waist. He shifted to make sure his robes were hiding his hard on.

“Do you always feel quite so needy when you’re uneasy?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

But then she was reaching across the empty space that he’d considered a safe distance and her small hand was grasping his cock through his pants. He couldn’t stop his hips from jutting into her embrace, or the heated look that flashed across his face. She eyed him knowingly and he felt like he’d both won and lossed something here.

She worked at his belt and unzipped him slowly. His heartbeat picked up and his breathing became uneven.

“I don’t mind helping.” She glanced around the corridor once more, but Draco knew they were safe. It was an elevated ledge and they sat in it deep. Even if someone glanced up they wouldn’t see the pair.

She worked at him slowly. He was a mumbling mess by the time she mounted him, her hips straddling his thighs.

“This okay?”

Unintelligible, jumbled thoughts fell from his lips, so he merely nodded. He dropped his hands to her knickers and played with her clit until she was writhing sensually on top of him. 

When she pushed her underwear aside, Draco truly thought he might die. Nothing in the world could be this good. Hermione Granger, sitting in his lap and ready to impale herself on his hard cock in a hidden Hogwarts corridor. He couldn’t have dreamt up a better scenario himself.

When she slowly lowered herself onto him, Draco gave her the time she needed to adjust. He’d never inquired about her virginity just as he’d never given much thought to his own.

He was losing it to a muggleborn know it all and it was the most glorious thing in the world.

Eventually she started moving her hips back and forth, tiny breaths falling from her lips that eventually turned into nonsensical moans. He let her work on top of him, watching with his mouth open as her face contorted into different masks of pleasure. It was beautiful. 

When she dragged his hand to her clit, he massaged it attentively. When she dropped her head onto his shoulder he began to thrust gently up into her. The pleasure was sinful, nothing in the world should ever be this good, he thought absentmindedly.

The feeling of Granger coming around his cock was unspeakable. It literally left him speechless. He continued to let words pour out of his mouth but he had no idea what they meant, or even if they made sense in the order they came out in.

She thrust down onto him even harder when she was present once more, sitting back up and riding him until he came with the force of lightning striking the earth. He bordered the line between pain and pleasure as Granger slipped her hands under his unbuttoned shirt (when did that happen?) and scratched down his back.

It was better than flying, than ice cold pumpkin juice on a summer day. For the first time since he could remember, the snow that had begun falling outside at some point during their tryst didn’t make him angry or sad. He sat, with Granger in his lap and her arms around his neck, feeling wholly and purely at peace. 

When they began getting dressed afterwards, giggling about a prank the Weasley twins had pulled at breakfast (Draco was loath to admit how much he enjoyed those), it finally hit him. He had just fucked Hermione Granger, and he  _ loved  _ it. 

Draco Malfoy was well and totally out of his mind.

  
  



	2. Screwed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sory for the wait, this chapter has been done for a bit but I've been using this time to educate myself on the BLM movement and reflect. I will continue to do so, especially since I am an educator, but I'm ready to start posting content once more.  
> Enjoy!

Granger doesn’t bring up Draco’s emotions afterwards. She hops off him, rearranges her knickers and walks away after a bit of small talk, claiming to be late for Herbology. If Draco had been able to feel anything other than satiated, he  _ still  _ wouldn’t have been offended. If he was could fuck without needing to speak more than a handful words then he was the envy of every other wizard.

She doesn’t mention the connection she claimed to have made about the wind and Draco’s impending interest in her, even when there are lulls in conversation during rounds the next week. In fact, Granger shows so little interest in Draco and whatever divine intervention controls him that he honestly starts to believe he made up the entire situation.

It doesn’t mean he isn’t concerned about it. Granger is smart, and despite her Gryffindor roots he’s starting to feel like she might be able to exercise more restraint and patience than the average member of her house.

January brought along unseasonably warm weather. For the majority of the month not even a stiff breeze could be felt. Draco went into February feeling wound tight and irritated.

He couldn’t justify coming onto Granger with his sanity intact. He wouldn’t even consider it.

Except, leaning against the wall to the Prefect’s bathroom and watching as she walked towards him, long legs peeking out from under her uniform skirt, Draco couldn’t stop the thoughts that passed through his mind. 

Granger was fit. Anyone with eyes would be able to notice it. It must have happened over the summer. Draco was sure he’d have realized if she’d been walking around looking like this last year.

It was more than just her looks, though. She  _ oozed  _ confidence. Granger had never been one to keep her head down, but it didn’t take more than a properly placed, poorly thought out insult to have her crumbling from the inside. 

Now Draco was sure it would take much more than that. Truthfully, he hadn’t put much effort into attacking her personally this year. He had managed to convince himself it was because she held some power in her hands by carrying the secret of their affairs. If anyone were to find out Draco was sleeping with a muggleborn, it would be the end of him being taken seriously among the Slytherins. 

And what did Granger have to lose if anyone found out, really? Sure, she would be ridiculed by her House for letting a Slytherin seduce her, but  _ honestly,  _ who cared about the opinion of a few dimwitted wizards when Draco knew how the witches truly felt about him? It would take less than ten words to get into the skirts of any other Gryffindor in their year. 

No, Draco was the only one with something to lose here. He couldn’t risk it by becoming predictable. 

It didn’t matter that it had been over five weeks since they’d last been together. It didn’t matter if that felt like  _ ages.  _ The next time the winds blew, he couldn’t give into his urges. 

\---

It took another week before the weather normalized to more seasonably appropriate. When Draco awoke to the sounds of the Black Lake slapping against his window, he gathered his bearings and almost managed to feel relieved. After today he’d be able to rid himself of Granger and whatever suspicions she’d created in her head.

But that fact came to him second only to how badly he wanted to shag her. It was the first thing that popped into his brain when he woke up, stiff and aching. Sweat rolled down his back. He’d barely touched himself before he came in a disappointing mix of anxiety and pent up tension. It wasn’t near as satiating as Granger’s cunt around his cock had been.

The thought had him hard within minutes. 

Draco approached the breakfast table in one of the worst moods imaginable. The goal of today was to survive— head down, thoughts repressed and above all else: avoid Granger. 

Beside him, Astoria Greengrass babbled on to her sister and Pansy while Draco pretended not to be listening. He couldn’t care less about whatever gossip she had on hand, but it was his job as Slytherin defacto to collect as many secrets as possible. Oftentimes this meant gossip was the key to destroying others. It was a dirty job, but Draco didn’t mind.

“I heard she’s desperate enough to let Weasley take her to Hogsmeade,” whispered Daphne over her porridge.  _ That  _ caught Draco’s attention. He turned his body until his knees were just a fraction of an inch away from Astoria’s.

“A very reliable source of mine said that’s not true,” Pansy replied, buttering a piece of toast with an evil smirk. “I was told they had a blowout in the Common Room when she turned him down.” She took a bite. “Apparently he was shocked.”

“You suck one cock behind the Herbology greenhouses and suddenly you’re a fountain of information,” Astoria mused. “If you open your legs I worry your vagina may start spreading rumours.”

Pansy’s jaw dropped. Draco took a deep sip of orange juice to avoid choking on his eggs.

He left quickly after that, feeling as if he’d gained enough information for a single morning. On his way to get off in the bathroom, he nearly ran over Granger. She held him by the shoulders to keep the both of them from toppling over. Even through his robes he could feel the warmth of her hands. He wanted to collapse in them and then push her against the wall and take her. 

Instead, he pulled away with a sneer. 

“If your hair is becoming large enough to impede your vision I suggest a cut is in order.” He ran his eyes up her body. She was wearing that damned  _ skirt  _ again. “My elves might have some hedge clippers that should be able to complete the job.”

Draco expected an eye roll or a scoff. Perhaps a combination of the two, followed by her storming away from him.

But instead, she leant against the wall and sent him a sly smirk. Her eyes were alight with fire. Draco swallowed past his dry throat. 

“You look flushed, Malfoy,” she took a step forward, head tilted and tongue peaking out from behind her teeth. “Perhaps you should head to the hospital wing to deal with your fever.”

Draco pulled his eyes away from her lips with exercised restraint that would impress even the most stoic of the Malfoy line.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he moved to step around her, but she blocked his path with her body. He took a step back, nervous that another touch from her would be enough for combustion to occur. 

Granger watched him with a furrowed brow and an expression that could only be described as fascination. She held her ground for only a moment more before sidestepping him and heading into the Great Hall.

“Be careful out there,” she threw over her shoulder. “The winds are quite strong today.”

Draco, too tempted to stare at her arse, didn’t look back. He doubled his speed and rushed towards the loo.

\---

Draco was nearly ready to tap out by noon.

Of course today was double potions with the Gryffindors, and of course the assignment required working in groups of four. And  _ of course  _ Snape was feeling even more vindictive than usual and required that the Slytherin pairs meet up with a Gryffindor pair. 

It was bad enough that the ever observant Zabini was his partner, but to have Granger standing across from him, chopping toad skins was more than he was able to handle. Not to mention he needed to be on his toes, because Longbottom was likely to turn their potion to sludge if he wasn’t properly looked after.

So Draco had no concentration left to focus on his teeth grating horniness or Granger’s ability to ease the situation with a few proper strokes. 

He watched as her long fingers scooped up the perfectly chopped skins and dropped them into the cauldron. His pulse raced as she twisted her neck from side to side, concentration written in her brow.

Her robes were completely shapeless but he could see the subtle curving of her breasts underneath. It was enough to remind him how soft and pliable they’d been, how when he squeezed them she’d tightened on his cock—

_ Focus,  _ he told himself. He was throwing himself into a tizzy over breasts he couldn’t even  _ see.  _ He turned back to the potions book before adjusting the heat on the cauldron.

“Slower, Malfoy,” she said. Draco’s head shot up and he threw up his Occlumency shields to prevent the imminent blush from staining his cheeks.

“The cauldron,” she said, enunciating carefully. “You turned it down too quickly. It’s going to solidify that way.” 

He nodded. “Right.” He gestured to the cauldron. “You seem to know exactly what you want, it’s not as if I’m not first in class for potions.”

“Well maybe you’re just feeling a bit  _ off  _ today, because I assure you if this was solely in your hands we’d all fail.”

“Just fix it then,” he said, feeling his frustration mounting. He fought the urge to throw his head into his hands and pasted a sneer on instead.

“Not knowing when to admit when you’re wrong is an unattractive trait, Malfoy.” He watched as she stirred once clockwise and three times counterclockwise, focusing on the swirling of the liquid. “You’ll never catch a decent witch that way.”

Was she challenging him? Oh, how bad he wanted to shout about all the indecent things she could do the second she thought no one was looking.

Except he couldn’t. Damn, secrets were normally so much easier to keep than this. And Granger’s goading, so obvious in its delivery, was never more hot. Since when did Gryffindor traits turn him on? No, that wasn’t it at all. Granger’s bare ankle would give him a hard on in his state. It wasn’t about her, necessarily, just what he knew he could get from her.

If he wanted. Which he didn’t.

“You’d be one to know about decent witches, Granger,” Blaise cut in, because Draco had just been insulted and he was standing there gawking instead of thinking up a witty response. “If you meet one, will you send her my way?”

“I’d sooner befriend Pansy before I recommended you as a proper boyfriend.”

Blaise shrugged. “Who said anything about boyfriends? A proper fuck would be enough.” He looked her up and down with pursed lips. “It seems as if you could go for one as well.”

A beat of silence. Then, “You know Zabini, I think you’re right.” Draco fumbled the ladle he’d been handling. It clattered to the ground. His eyes shot up to look at Granger only to find she was already staring at him. “I don’t think I’m the only one at this table in that same position.”

Longbottom had taken over transferring their potion into a vial to hand in for a grade. The moment Snape had given them the seal of approval, Draco was out of the door.

Zabini yelled after him about helping to clean up. Draco didn’t care. He needed  _ out.  _

\---

It was an hour before dinner and Draco was in the library, pretending to study. He had spent his time between Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts in his room, where he’d wanked approximately five times in an hour, all of them to lackluster completions.

Luckily Defense found himself in the company of Hufflepuffs, and for a moment Draco almost felt like he could breathe. There was no Granger present, no snotty voice to be heard and no bushy head to be stared at. He’d thought about taking her against his rickety desk the entire time, but the fantasy was much less intense when she wasn’t sitting directly across from him, flaunting their sexcepades to one of his best friends. 

But still, he sat in the library, short-tempered, sweaty and so,  _ so  _ horny he could cry about it. 

It wasn’t like normal urges. He’d thought about shagging Granger twelve different ways per day since their first time, but none of those fantasies had him reacting like this. He might have wanked a few times from them, but the sheer desperation he was feeling was more equivalent to extreme thirst or hunger. It felt like his body had been put in survival mode, like he might die without it. 

And he knew how positively dramatic that sounded. He wasn’t going to die if he didn’t shag Granger. That was logic. It was too bad logic had no place in his head today.

He’d been so focused on his musings that he hadn’t realized Granger had slipped into the seat across from him. She slammed his book shut and he jumped in response, stiffening when he saw she had shedded her robes since classes had been dismissed.

“Umbridge will kill you if she sees you flaunting around like a floozy.”

Granger shrugged. “Umbridge can’t be spared to worry about me when Harry’s causing so much trouble.”

Draco began shoving his books into his bag. “She’ll change her mind about that once she realizes you get into just as much nonsense as him.”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t get into trouble.”

Draco snorted. 

“No, really.” She crossed her arms over her chest and Draco felt like he was being punished. There was no reason to make her breast uso enticing other than to torture him. His cock twitched in his pants and he fought the urge to buck into nothing, searching for some relief from the hard on he’d been sporting for the last half hour.

“That act might work on Mcgonagall, but I don’t have my Gryffindor blinders on.”

“Name one thing.”

He zipped up his bag. “What’s the point? So I can fuel your fantasy where I’m secretly obsessed with you?” He stood up. “No, thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He made to walk past her, but she stood and blocked his path.

“I know you have this preconceived notion that I always have my nose stuffed in a book but I assure you I am observant enough.” She put her hands on his arm.

“Maybe I have it backwards. It seems like you’re the one obsessed with me.

“Can you name me one boy in this school that wouldn’t shag a willing girl a few times a week, at least?”

“You’re just asking me to call you degrading names at this point.”

“Do it.”

Draco paused. “What?”

She crossed her arms over her chest once more. Draco knew it was on purpose by this point.

“If you’re going to be rude then don’t beat around the bush. Keep your secrets if you must, but at least go back to your old, awful self.” She lifted her shoulder and eyed him innocently. “Call me names, make fun of my appearance. Give me  _ something. _ ”

He clenched his fists at his sides.  _ You could just walk away,  _ he told himself. He had nothing to prove to Granger. In fact, turning away and feigning indifference was probably the most powerful thing he could do in this moment, definitely better than throwing insults when his heart wasn’t truly in it. 

His feet felt glued to the ground. For a moment he truly thought she’d placed a nonverbal, wandless sticking charm on him. But no, he just couldn’t find it in him to lift his feet. Her confidence was breaking down his resolve brick by brick. Snape would be so disappointed in his Occlumency. 

He was silent for too long. Granger’s face shifted from arrogance and fell into annoyance. She shrugged and went to turn and leave.

If she would have left thirty seconds ago, or even waited another few moments then Draco would have had enough wits about him to let her go.

But she didn’t wait. And he couldn’t stop himself.

He grabbed her by the forearm and pulled her back. Her head was just beginning to whip around, and he barely glimpsed the annoyed expression when his lips met hers.

It was heated immediately. His hands were in her hair, wrapping around her curls before he was aware what was happening. By then, he was in too deep to pull away. 

Granger let out a small moan that traveled from their joined mouths straight down to Draco’s crotch. He pulled her in tighter, stepping her backwards until her back hit the nearest bookshelf. 

He ravaged her mouth with wet, sloppy kisses. His tongue traced her lips and explored her mouth thoroughly. It was fast paced, but Draco made sure to take his time in enjoying the act.

It was better than anything he’d attempted all day. No fantasy, no wank could compare to the feel of Granger’s breast pressed against his chest, her hands dragging down his back and her hips arching into him, giving relief and building tension in the best way possible.

He wanted to move slower, wanted to make this last as long as possible, but his hands seemed to move without his permission. They slid down to her waist. One came behind to grip her arse and the other snaked under the skirt that had been driving him mad all day. When he reached her knickers to find them hot and wet, his knees nearly buckled. 

She released the kiss and panted against his mouth as he pulled her knickers aside, eyes coming up to meet his. Her gaze was heated and for the first time he wondered if she wanted this as bad as he did. What did it do to her to see him like this? Her pupils were dilated and her eyes were wide. Draco squeezed her arse and she bucked against the hand that had frozen at the seams of her knickers. 

He slid a finger through her slit and her head fell forward to lay against his chest. Her fingers moved down and curled into his shirt, pulling slightly.

Draco’s cock was pulsing against the zipper of his pants. Granger was rutting shamelessly against his hand and hip. He moved to her center and inserted two fingers, seeing white as her walls clamped down on the digits. 

She lifted her head suddenly and moved her hands to undo his belt. Draco could have wept in gratitude when she chose to pump him a few times and then swat his hands away from under her skirt. 

“Be quiet, and don’t try to impress me,” she whispered, looking around. “We didn’t pick the best spot to do this.”

He didn’t need permission as she turned around, chest against the bookshelf. She spread her legs slightly and stuck her arse out. When she turned her head around, flushed face looking at him passionately, Draco felt fucked in more than one way.

When he thrust in, he had to wait a moment before continuing on. He had no problem being quick, but blowing his load after two seconds was more embarrassment than he could bear.

The angle was new and so, so much better than anything he could have imagined. He flipped Granger’s skirt up around her hips and watched in awe as he slid in and out of her, slowly at first. After the first few thrusts she pushed back to meet him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together to fight off the urge to moan. He wished they could kiss, wished he could swallow her panted breaths and small sounds. One day, he wanted to shag her in a manner that allowed them to be as loud as they wanted. 

He moved one hand to her hip while the other traced down to her thighs and moved around and circle her clit. 

She let out a groan, perhaps a bit louder than was advisable but Draco was gone, completely lost to the sensations that were travelling from his toes all the way up. He wanted to hear her scream his name, loud enough for anyone in the library to know what was happening.

He came suddenly, too wrapped up in the sensations to properly realize how far he had built up. He threw his head down against the back of her neck and placed sloppy open mouthed kisses against any skin he could find. Her skin was salty and the taste immediately became Draco’s favorite.

Once he was spent, legs trembling and sweat rolling down his back, he could still feel Granger’s cunt clenching against his softening cock. His hand, which had stilled during the throes of his climax, moved once, twice, three times before she was shuddering against him, hands coming round to grab his hip and hold tightly. She took in great, heaving breaths. He so badly wished to see her face. 

When she was done, her grip loosened on his trousers and she patted his hip two times. He slid out, hoping she hadn’t noticed that his cock was already hardening.

They rearranged their clothes in near silence, Granger twisting her skirt around while Draco zipped up his pants and vanished the wrinkles from his uniform.

Just when he’d thought he’d be able to scurry away without any invasive musings from her, Granger turned and faced him.

“You know,” she began, patting down her wild curls, “you don’t have to wait until you’re out of your mind to give in.”

Above them, the winds blew so strong that a window flew open. It banged against the raptors, causing a few students in the library to let out small screams of panic. 

They both lifted their eyes in tandem. Draco swallowed. When he looked back at her, she was staring at him with a knowing gleam and a smirk.

“The winds are nice, but I wonder how good you’d be with all your wits about you.” She turned away and walked down the aisle.

“Until next time, Draco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so officially this could totally be a WIP. Thoughts? Would that be something you guys wanted? Let me know!  
> Follow me on tumblr, @hiccupfound


	3. Worth Fighting For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor canon divergence here that will lead to some more minor canon divergence in the next few chapters. Expect major canon divergence at some point during seventh year.

When the Inquisitorial Squad first was brought up to him, Draco didn’t care to join. He was in the midst of quidditch— which didn’t seem as fun as it used to— and between that, rounds and balancing his classwork, he really wasn’t sure there was any room in his schedule for another— err—  _ organization. _

But then extra credit was brought up, and Umbridge had Draco’s attention. 

He’d been second in every class except Potion’s since first year. No matter how hard he studied, how far he pushed himself, he could  _ never  _ surpass Granger. Draco suspected that the majority of the teachers were biased— Snape included— and put more thought into whose name was on the parchment than the actual content written. 

He wasn’t discrediting Granger’s intelligence, but after their first year they had each earned a reputation— Hermione Granger, Golden Girl, and Draco Malfoy, smart, but too arrogant. Hogwarts teachers were the least unbiased people he’d ever met. 

But extra credit would give him an advantage in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Maybe even enough to put him ahead of her for the first time.

So he took the position. At first for the leg up, but it didn’t take him very long to start enjoying it. 

Extra detentions. Taking away house points without Granger’s approval. The  _ look  _ on people’s faces when Umbridge backed him up on a less than honest call he’d made. It was all adding up to be an exciting year.

And then they were tasked with finding the secret dueling club. Week after week they’d trail after Potter, just to be led astray at the last minute every. single. time. Frustrating would be putting it lightly. 

Draco knew Granger was involved. Potter didn’t do anything without Weasley and her tailing behind him.

March was frigid and miserable. Draco was bitter and lacking patience, sick of being undermined by Potter and his gang.

The winds seemed to blow relentlessly. He shagged Granger when it happened, limiting himself to once per day and leaving as soon as it was over. She wasn’t one for awkward small talk and Draco was thankful. 

In April, right before Easter Break, Umbridge called Draco to her office to inform him they were heading to the Room of Requirement (the  _ what?)  _ to expose the group for good.

He hardly had anytime to be excited as Umbridge pushed him through the door and down the hall. They had entered, seeing only Potter standing in the middle of the room, before he’d processed what was happening. 

He’d been the one to discover the list of Members. When he saw Granger’s name, at the very top, he was torn between throwing his fist in the air— because he  _ knew it—  _ and hiding it behind his back. 

What would this mean for the two of them? Was he willing to give up shagging her? Spring was right around the corner, but what if there were a few windy days left? He wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope by himself anymore.

Umbridge snatched the parchment out of his hand before he’d made his mind up either way. Her face could only be described as complete euphoria— the cat that got the cream times ten.

Draco and the other Slytherins were sent back to their common room without any explanation. He spent his night wondering what had happened and why, hoping he’d get something the next day.

He wasn’t expecting to see the word  _ SNEAK  _ written across Marietta Edgecombe’s face in large, painful seeming boils. She sat isolated at the end of the Ravenclaw table with a sullen looking Cho Chang.

When Granger entered with a book pressed against her chest, she glared toward the table and spit something that made Marietta’s shoulders tense. She continued down to the Gryffindor table and sat facing away from the Ravenclaws, with Potter and Weasley not far behind. 

Draco watched as Chang called out to Potter and he obstinately ignored her. He sat next to Granger, and the majority of their fifth and fourth year huddled their heads close together and began whispering.

If Draco wanted more of an explanation than that, he’d need to plant himself at Gryffindor table for dinner. He hadn’t heard a peep out of them the entire day, despite having double Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures with them. 

It was Thursday, which meant he’d be patrolling with Granger that night. Perhaps he’d be able to squeak some information out of her.

He waited at the prefect bathroom for seven minutes before she arrived.

“You’re late.”

She shoved a piece of parchment into his hands. “ _ Professor  _ Umbridge sends her apologies for such a horrible inconvenience.”

Draco opened the letter. Indeed, there was an attached apology from Umbridge, addressed directly to Draco. 

He whistled. “There was no need to get an excused tardy for a professor, Granger. I would have taken your word for it.”

Her nostrils flared and at her sides, her fists were clenched. She looked hot enough to boil a tea kettle without a spell. 

“Oh, Umbridge insisted that my integrity was no longer to be trusted. She made it very clear that I wouldn’t have any  _ authority _ , so you’re lucky I even bothered to show up.”

Draco pushed off the wall and began walking, Granger following at his side. 

“What was that you said a few months ago?” He peeked behind a curtain. “About not getting in any trouble?”

“I know what you’re doing.” She opened the door to an abandoned classroom and lit her wand. Draco followed in behind her.

“Proving myself right and you wrong?” He spelled open the office door. “It’s my favorite hobby.”

She turned away from the window she’d been peering out. “I’m not giving you any information.”

Draco held his hands up innocently. “You’ve been doing shit that’s against the rules for years and you’ve  _ finally  _ gotten your punishment. Am I not allowed to enjoy it?”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” She snapped her head towards him, eyes wide and fiery. “You get off on other people’s misery because you’re so vastly unhappy with your own life.”

Draco stood up straighter. “I’m a Malfoy, prefect, leader of the Slytherins and one of the few fifth years that didn’t just land themselves in months worth of detentions.”

She rolled her eyes, swiftly walking out of the classroom. “You’ve got nothing to stand up for, no one that you want to fight for.”

He thought of his dad, staring at his left arm as the mark on him darkened. The terrified image of his face was forever imprinted into Draco’s memory.

“I have people to fight for.”

“Because you want to, or because you feel obligated?” Her eyes pierced into his and suddenly they weren’t walking anymore. The atmosphere was tense and the air was thick. Her chest was heaving and Draco hadn’t even realized how angry she was because of how steady her voice had been the entire time. He wondered how she’d managed that, how hard she’d had to practice.

Draco dropped his eyes and waved his wand at an alcove. Behind it were two Ravenclaw fourth years, snogging and completely oblivious they’d been interrupted.

“Get back to your common room!” Granger exclaimed, sounding like a reprimanding parent. “Detention, both of you! I’ll be letting professor Flitwick know about this.”

The pair scurried off, heads down and shoulders hunched.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought Umbridge took away your authority.”

Her eyes stayed glued on the pair’s receding figures. “Nobody else has to know that.”

They stayed silent until the two had turned a corner. Granger continued down their normal path, talking less than normal. Throughout the year they’d become more comfortable with each other; there were hardly any lapse in conversation anymore. It made this one feel unnatural and strained.

“I have people to fight for,” he said.

“What are you fighting for?” she asked, continuing down the hall and looming around for other students.

Draco averted his eyes to the ceiling and shrugged. “Whatever I need to. I’ve fought Potter for years, do you think it’s always been for myself?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately.

“You think I don’t hear the way you all talk about Slytherins, my friends included?”

“And when have you ever made a stand on their behalf?” She shook her head. “You don’t get it.”

Her arms crossed over her chest and for the first time this year she looked small and vulnerable, and Draco wondered what all of this had to do with her detentions.

“You can’t say what I do and don’t get. You don’t know me like that.”

It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it before it came out of his mouth. 

She was the only one who knew his secret, and though he’d never told her so, he knew that she knew that. 

“Ron shot slugs at you when you called me a slur. Harry was the one that decided to come help me with the troll in first year. And I—” she took a deep breath, dropping her head towards the ground slightly, “—well it doesn’t matter. Your point has been made. But you can trust me when I tell you that  _ I’ve  _ got people worth fighting— worth getting in trouble for. And you have  _ no  _ idea what that means.”

“Marietta Edgecombe might know a bit about that.”

Her face gave away nothing. “I’m not giving you any information.”

“I saw the list,” he whispered, looking around before pulling her into a hidden corner. “No one else on there has anywhere near the capability to pull off a spell like that.”

“You underestimate the ability of the people on that list,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and averting her head to the side. 

“Your name was at the top.”

Still, he couldn’t read her. He realized that he’d never been able to, but before now it had never mattered. He’d never cared to know what she was thinking, what she was hiding behind her cocky demeanor. 

“I signed up for a club that Umbridge forbade from happening and got caught. That’s all there is to it.”

She flipped the curtain open and walked away, leaving Draco to wonder why Granger’s mischievous ways were suddenly so interesting. 

\---

He was patrolling with a few other members of the Inquisitorial Squad when he saw Ginny Weasley and Longbottom skulking around suspiciously outside of Umbridge’s door. 

Pansy stopped speaking mid sentence and her shoulders perked up. Their eyes met and they both charged forward. 

Things happened quickly after that. They were in Umbridge’s office, he was restraining a seriously panicked Granger as Umbridge threatened the  _ Cruciatus  _ curse. 

A professor. Attempting to use and Unforgivable. And Draco was going to let her. 

But Granger and her big mouth couldn’t keep quiet. Draco wasn’t sure if it was because she couldn’t bear to watch Potter get tortured or if there was a bigger plan in action. 

He knew she was lying. But Umbridge was desperate for whatever nonsense Granger was spewing to be true and they were gone before anyone else could properly process what had just happened. 

More chaos. Puking pastilles were ingested by Crabbe and Goyle and suddenly everyone they’d been keeping detained was gone. Draco would have been furious if he wasn’t more nervous what would happen to them once Umbridge returned and realized what had gone down.

But Umbridge never came back. They searched the castle for Potter and his crew and came up empty. They hid in the common room after that, cowering and waiting for Umbridge to summon them.

She never did. 

The next day the  _ Daily Prophet  _ held a picture of Dumbledore cradling Potter and claiming that Voldemort was back. 

Saying his father was in Azkaban. 

His head was spinning, filled with information that  _ had  _ to be false. 

The Dark Lord was back. Draco had known that Potter was telling the truth because his dad had sat him down and talked to him about what happened.

But there was no way his father had spent the previous night fighting and  _ losing  _ against a couple of Hogwarts students. 

As more students flooded the halls and collected their papers, more eyes fell on him. He looked towards the Gryffindor table but Potter, Weasley and Granger weren’t there. Ginny Weasley had bandages wrapped around her hands and a large bruise at her temple. Longbottom was sporting a black eye and a clearly healing broken nose. Lovegood was sitting with them with a few scratches marring her face. 

Draco’s stomach tightened as the minutes passed and less people filtered through the door. The Gryffindor table remained quiet in a way he’d never seen— eyes turned towards each other and serious looks on their faces. No one was laughing— not even a single smile. 

People were starting to file out of the Great Hall and Potter, Granger and Weasley were still nowhere to be found. 

No matter how much he tried to justify it in his head, he couldn’t convince himself that Granger hadn’t followed Potter to the ministry. 

She was the one who had taken Potter and Umbridge out of the office. She had been at the top of the DA list. 

Potter  _ never  _ went anywhere without his best friends. 

Draco rose from the table quickly, bumping his knees against the underside. He pushed through the crowds, speeding away and trying to calm his breathing. 

She wouldn’t have died. Not only was she too smart and clever to let anyone even get the chance, the papers would have reported that. 

Would they report a teenager's death, though? They had mentioned Sirius Black, but he was an adult. We’re their clearances that needed to happen when it came to an underage witch?

Once out of the entrance he made a sharp left and headed for the infirmary. His fingers ran aimlessly through his hair as his footsteps sped up. 

Outside of the open door, he stopped suddenly. 

He wasn’t sure how to proceed. If Granger wasn’t in there, how was he supposed to explain randomly turning up in the hospital wing? And if she was, what did he plan on doing? Sitting at her bedside wasn’t an option and even if it was, he wasn’t interested. 

So he moved slightly to the left, glancing past the dozens of empty beds. When all seemed still, he shifted to the right. 

The sixth bed from the front had two chairs placed in front of it. In one sat Potter with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. He looked positively dreadful. 

Beside him was Weasley, his head thrown back and arm covering his eyes. He was shaking his leg in a restless manner. 

Both boys looked positively stressed to the max and he  _ still  _ couldn’t find Granger. There was no other chair surrounding the bed and he couldn’t see who was lying beneath the covers. The curtains were drawn far enough that their head and shoulders were hidden. 

He couldn’t confirm it, but he  _ knew.  _ It had to be her lying there so still, next to friends that looked on the brink of mentally breaking down. None of it was promising and he  _ needed  _ to know. 

But still, he couldn’t saunter in. He could feign a headache and claim a lie down, but they would all know it would just be so he could be nosey on the Golden Trio and it would probably end in a fight. 

He’d made so many mistakes this year. He’d let Granger go down with the rest of the dueling club even though she’d made a solid point a dozen times about the lack of proper teaching happening in the classroom. He was going to stand and watch as Umbridge tortured one— perhaps more— of his classmates. 

Still, his feet stayed glued to the floor, and eventually pulled him away from the entryway. He sat through Care of Magical Creatures and Potions in a daze. 

Word had started to spread about the Ministry of Magic fight, but nothing that hadn’t been mentioned on the  _ Prophet.  _ At lunch the Gryffindor table remained unusually quiet and stoic. When a Hufflepuff approached Ginny Weasley with questions, she hexed him so hard he hit the back wall. 

Potter, Weasley and Granger still remained absent. 

That evening before dinner, Draco stood outside of the infirmary, hoping to hear some passing information— perhaps a conversation between Potter and Weasley, or Madam Pomfrey discussing a potions regiment.

It took three quarters of an hour before anyone spoke. 

“You boys should head off for dinner. She won’t be awake again tonight.”

Silence, then slight shuffling. “We’d like to stay, just in case.”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “You three have always surprised me— your loyalty to each other within your own group seems to waver daily, but when hell breaks loose you’re always together, with a stronger bond than most people find in their entire life.”

“She told me not to go,” Potter whispered. Draco couldn’t see any of them, but his voice sounded small, like he was still as scrunched up in his chair as he had been that morning. 

“But you did it anyway. I’m sure miss Granger wouldn’t be happy to know you were staying by her side through guilt.”

“It’s not guilt.” Weasley said. “Hermione’s there for us whenever we need her and we’re just returning the favor.”

A beat of silence, then some more movement. “They’re strong potions, but she should be good tomorrow morning. I’ll see you boys bright and early where you can escort Miss Granger to a safe and healthy breakfast.”

As someone who grew up taking manners classes, Draco recognized a dismissal. He expected Potter or Weasley— both, if he was being honest— to argue back, but he heard chairs scraping against the ground and Draco only  _ just  _ had enough time to run to the closest hallway and pretend to be turning a corner as the boys exited the doorway. 

“Pity,” he said, swaggering up to where both boys now stood with their backs to him, spines straight and fists clenched. “I’d figured you’d both died in the battle yesterday, considering no one has seen you.” He made an act of peering behind the boys. “Though it seems I can’t be too disappointed. Looks like Granger actually kicked the bucket. I knew mudbloods weren’t up to par.”

He waited for any explanation on her absence or even a punch of the face. When Potter opened his mouth, Draco let his hopes rise. 

But Weasley placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. 

“He’s not worth it, Harry. Come on, let’s go.” His voice was tired, lacking the fire and anger that the Weasley family had always been known for.

And just like that, they were gone and Draco felt like he had missed out on something he didn’t know he wanted. 

\---

The next morning Draco rose early after an awful night's sleep. He dressed groggily and slowly made his way to the Great Hall. 

He’d been sitting for about ten minutes when Potter and Weasley strolled in with Granger pressed tightly between their shoulders. 

She looked small and pale, her wild hair pulled back into two braids, leaving only a few strands peeking out around her face. 

When they entered, the Gryffindors at the end of the table immediately pushed down and made room. Behind them, Marietta Edgecombe spoke something Draco couldn’t hear and Ginny Weasley spun around and pointed her wand at her, talking angrily enough that spit flew from her mouth. 

“I’m not surprised that you’d have something to say, seeing as it’s written all over your face that you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Potter grabbed Ginny’s arm and shook his head at her. She turned sharply around and began talking to Granger, who was watching as Longbottom passed her a plate of toast. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head, but he pushed it further and she relented with a sigh. 

Not long after, Dumbledore began a speech about the Department of Ministries and the Dark Lord, but Draco’s eyes remained firmly on Granger. 

She sat with her elbows on the table and her hands holding her head lightly at her temples, staring blankly at the table in front of her. When people would talk to her, she didn’t speak, merely shook her head yes or no. 

She looked positively fragile, and as the meal wore on she took smaller and smaller bites and seemed to pale significantly. She didn’t even cheer when it was confirmed all Hogwarts testing was still happening on schedule. 

Dumbledore was speaking about unity and strength in numbers when she suddenly popped out of her seat and rushed out of the Great Hall. Ginny looked questioningly towards Potter, who whispered in her ear. She nodded solemnly and turned back to Dumbledore. 

After about two minutes, Draco got up and left his breakfast. He turned towards the girl’s loo and waited against the wall, one foot propped against it. 

Granger exited a few moments later, and after a quick look around he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the nearest alcove— one they’d caught countless couples snogging behind. 

“Do you mind?” she asked, pulling her school robes tightly around her and crossing her arms over her chest. “I’d rather not have everyone piling out from breakfast to see this.”

“You’ve just been excused from a battle at the Ministry of Magic and this is what you’re worried about? You’re practically invincible after that.”

Her lips tightened and her eyebrows drew in. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Where were you yesterday?”

“Been keeping tabs on me, have you?” Her words were the same but her voice lacked the arrogant punch it’d had all year. 

“Maybe I should start, seeming as I’m the only one you hang around that hasn’t put your life at risk.”

“Not yet, at least,” she mumbled. 

“I don’t care to figure out what you mean by that.” He unfolded her arms and unbuttoned her robe. She slapped his hand away.

“In case you couldn’t tell, I’m not in the mood for a hallway shag.”

“Where are you injured?” He reached for her robe again and she drew back a few steps. 

“Keep your hands to yourself,” she spat.

“Granger, tell me what happened.”

“Ask your father if you’re so curious.”

“He’s the one that hurt you?” Draco knew later on, when he got off the train in London, he’d be more upset about his father. But right now, with Granger standing in front of him like a wounded animal he couldn’t spare it a second thought. 

Granger’s eyes lifted from the ground and met his. They were wide— black encompassing her brown in a manner he recognized well.

“How many pain potions have you taken?”

“I have to go.” She grabbed the tapestry and took a step back.

Draco grabbed her wrist gently. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Malfoy, I’ve just been sick in the bathroom.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that. You look awful.”

“I need to go to the Hospital Wing.”

“I will take you there after you explain everything to me.”

Granger closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose.

“Malfoy.”

“Granger.”

“I’ve just thrown up some very vital potions. I need to go to the Hospital Wing and retake them before my injury starts killing me again.”

Without another word, Draco flew open the tapestry and dragged her through the castle to the infirmary. He sat on the edge of the first bed as Madam Pomfrey drew out a large bin of potions. She eyed him warily for a moment. 

“It’s fine,” Granger said. “Malfoy’s fine.”

It was probably the only nice words she’d spoken aloud about him all year. 

Madam Pomfrey handed Granger ten separate vials that she took with varying degrees of grimace. Pomfrey turned to him when she was done.

“Mister Malfoy, will you escort Miss Granger to her Common Room?”

When they had swung around a corner in the hallway, Malfoy turned to her. Her eyes were aimed straight ahead. 

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.”

“What hit you?”

She sighed and stopped in the middle of the hallway, unbuttoning her robe and untucking her shirt from her skirt. The same skirt that had given him so much grief the entire school year. 

Beneath, stretching from her hip bone, encompassing her belly button and covering her bottom few ribs, was a wretched looking purple wound. Draco eyed it for a few moments, watching as her stomach rose and fell with each shallow breath she was taking. 

“What spell is that?” He asked, reaching out to run his fingers over it. She didn’t stop him, but flinched when his fingers made contact with the flesh. It was hot, much warmer than the rest of her body.

“Dolohov hit me with it, though I’m not sure exactly what it was because it was nonverbal.” She looked down at it with a grimace. “Madam Pomfrey said if it had been spoken aloud I’d have been dead before I made it to the Hospital.”

Draco ran his fingers up the wound, tracing the outside of it slowly, letting the words sink in. 

“How’s the pain?”

“The potions have helped, but they make me sick. I can’t have any anti nausea potions because my regiment is already so heavy. It’s been hard to stomach.”

He drew his hand away suddenly, stepping back a few paces and shaking his head because the reality of it all was finally sinking in.

War had just begun and there was already a fatality in battle. Granger would have been the first Hogwarts muggle born student to die this time around if things had been only slightly different. 

Draco knew Dolohov. He sat across from him at Christmas and two spots down at Easter. He’d slapped him on the back after seeing his school marks last year and laughed at the jokes Draco had made in his father’s study after dinner, where he’d felt like a man for the first time. 

That same person had gone out and tried to kill someone nearly thirty years younger than him. Someone Draco knew and interacted with. 

Someone Draco had wanked off to multiple times during his stay in the Manor. 

“Right,” he said, drawing his eyes away from her. “To your Common Room, then?”

She nodded, tucking her shirt back in and adjusting her robes. They walked in silence, slower this time because now that Draco knew how bad she was injured he could see a slight limp.

When they arrived, he turned away but she spoke to his back. 

“I’m not sorry that your dad’s in Azkaban.” Draco’s shoulders stiffened. “But I am sorry that your  _ dad  _ is in Azkaban. I hope you know the difference.”

Draco wasn’t sure he knew anything anymore. “Get some rest, Granger.”

He didn’t see her for the rest of the school year, except in passing. When they boarded the Hogwarts Express back to London, she was still limping and looked paler than ever. Her hair was tightly braided and she was surrounded by the other Ministry of Magic fighters. They were laughing even though Draco could tell she was so sad— a deep down sad that didn’t need to be explained when they were living on the brink of war.

_ “But you can trust me when I tell you that I’ve got people worth fighting— worth getting in trouble for. And you have no idea what that means.” _

For the first time, he recognized it. The love she had for the people surrounding her— Longbottom who had buttered her toast for the past two weeks and the Weasley siblings that had fierce comebacks and hexes for anyone who commented on her meek demeanor. 

And there, at the center of it all, was Potter. The war would evolve around him. And Granger was standing on the edge, letting herself get pulled in, to defend him and help him— even if she died along the way. It truly was something he didn’t understand. 

But he would try. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes about injuries:  
> 1) Hermione’s injury by Dolohov is seriously underplayed in the books and I wanted to rectify that. His spell being nonverbal and that being why she lived is true. Her needing to take ten potions a day to recover is true. YOU CAN’T TELL ME THAT DIDNT TAKE A TOLL ON HER. You can’t tell me she wasn’t in the hospital for a few days and seriously weak and ill for weeks afterwards. You can’t tell me that through Harry’s grief stricken mind, he didn’t picture a world where Hermione died and blame it completely on himself.  
> 2) I’m aware that the injuries I described on Luna, Ginny and Neville can all be healed by magic, but as a fellow Gryffindor I would just like to say that I would consider those wounds/bruises badges of honor and I would wear them with pride. I wouldn’t let anyone heal them because I’d want everyone to see what had happened and hope to convince, inspire or even scare them onto the right side. I feel like Ginny and Neville would feel the same way and Luna would go with it for solidarity.


	4. Year Six

It was raining when Draco boarded the Hogwarts Express, and it fit directly in with his mood (pretending, for a second, as if the weather had no say so in how he felt.)

Once he was aboard he sat down next to Pansy, who felt so warm and smelled like fresh flowers— the same perfume she’d been wearing during those formative moments back in fourth year— but had never seemed more wholesome and homey. It made Draco desperate in a way he hadn’t in months, for something he wasn’t ready to identify yet. 

The summer had gone along much worse than he had predicted. His father being in Azkaban was shameful and he expected some backlash from the other Death Eaters, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the repercussions of his father’s failures. 

His inner arm itched and he turned to Pansy to ask about her summer, reaching for some sense of normalcy through the people that had never felt so distant. Theo sat across from him and right next to Blaise. Draco couldn’t make eye contact with either of them. 

It had been so long since he had a proper conversation with someone else. He’d spent as much time as possible holed up in his room, avoiding the many eerie faces that wandered the halls. 

“Draco, are you all right?” Pansy’s head tilted to the side, her lips parted as if she had more to say, but then she snapped them shut. Draco knew he must be in a right state, because Pansy  _ never  _ held back.

“I’m fine,” he said, crossing his ankle over his opposite knee and turning towards her. “Just an odd summer, that’s all.” He’d fake a smile if he’d thought it would help, but knew he’d be laying it on too thick. 

They carried on like that for a while, talking about superficial things that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Pansy discussed her trip to Paris in her usual haughty tone, but her eyes didn’t shine the same as they had in previous years. She kept glancing over her shoulder, as if they were being watched. It reminded Draco he needed to be on guard and put forth a better effort in his acting. 

He sat up straight and took a sudden interest in Pansy’s shopping affairs.

Above them, a suitcase moved on its own accord. 

Draco didn’t know any magic that was that terribly jerky. And he only knew one person capable of invisibility.

They chatted casually for a bit more. More mentions of Pansy’s traveling, some talks of Blaise’s newest step father. Nothing too serious. Draco made sure of that.

When they pulled into the Hogsmeade train station, the three around him rose. Their eyes fell to him in question when he didn’t follow.

“Go on without me,” he said. “I’ll meet you inside.”

\---

“You’ve just missed a touching speech.” Theo raised a glass of pumpkin juice to his lips. “Unity among the students and all that.”

“So sad to have been absent,” Draco replied drily. 

Across the room, Potter came in holding a bloody rag to his nose. Daphne Greengrass, who sat to the left of Draco, raised an eyebrow and set an expectant look on him. Draco ignored her and buttered a roll.

In some ways, being back in Hogwarts eased the cloud of anxiety that had been surrounding him for the past few months. He’d always enjoyed school, loathe as he was to actually admit so. Here, there would be a routine. Wake up, go to class, pretend the world wasn’t falling apart. Truthfully, it wasn’t too much different than what he was doing at home, but at least here he didn’t have to worry about any unwanted faces making an appearance.

Not for a while, at least.

He was following the crowd out of the Great Hall and was about to turn left when a cold, clammy hand wrapped around his wrist and dragged him through a nearby tapestry.

A dozen different Death Eaters ran through his mind. What could he have possibly done wrong so quickly after his return?

He was a failure in all things. Never the best in school, second to Potter in quidditch, a disappointment to his parents.

But he wasn’t going to fail at this. 

He opened his mouth to begin his defense— maybe even map out his plan— when his gaze fell on Hermione Granger. His eyes narrowed immediately. 

She was smaller than he remembered, wild hair barely scraping his chest as they pressed closed together in the small corner. 

“Granger,” he said drily. “Glad to see you missed me.”

“And here I thought you were always just pretending to be stupid.”

Draco raised his brow. Granger was small— head tilted up so their eyes could meet— but she was positively filled with fearless rage.

Draco crossed his ankles and leant against the wall. “To what do I owe the pleasure, then?”

She shoved her palm into his chest, hard. If he hadn’t already had his back against the bricks, he would have tripped backwards a step or two. He brushed off his robes where her hands had just been, trying to rid of the sensation of her warmth seeping through his shirt.

“I don’t know what kind of wild fantasies you had fulfilled this summer, but I can assure you I’m not into getting roughed up before a shag.”

She grit her teeth hard enough that Draco watched her jaw flex. 

“Where do you get off with such arrogance?” she asked, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. It was long, much longer than he remembered. He watched the motion with a veiled expression. “You’ve no idea where I’ve been this summer, what I’ve done— or  _ who  _ I’ve done for that matter— and you think the first thing I want to do when I return to Hogwarts is chase after you for a shag?”

“Well I’m simply shaking with anticipation to find out the reason why then.”

“Harry!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Where do you get off thinking you can break his nose?”

Draco’s nostrils flared.  _ Of course  _ Potter had run and told his group of Gryffindor cronies everything. Draco wondered what it would be like to be so blindingly stupid and trust anyone that was stupid enough to fight for his cause.

“If you know enough about Potter’s poor broken nose then I suppose you’re also aware that he was in the Slytherin car  _ spying  _ on us?”

Granger’s hands balled into fists and if she threw a punch this time, Draco wouldn’t cower or flinch.

“Don’t play the noble game with me, Malfoy. We both know Harry has a list longer than the first year enrollment class of reasons to be suspicious of you.”

“So that makes it okay for him to invade my privacy? I’ll remember that next time Goyle claims he has business in the girl’s lavatories. I’ve suddenly got plenty of suspicions that he might not be lying.” He pushed off the wall quickly, bringing their bodies close enough that they were nearly touching.

He wanted to make her uncomfortable, force her gaze to drop and her feet to step back. 

But it seemed impossible to put her off. Her eyes stayed filled with fire and glued on his, her feet planted firmly on the ground.

“Harry needs to back away from this childishness this year. He’s had a tough summer and the chances that this year are any better seem to be slimmer every passing day.”

Draco's mouth dropped open twice before he spoke. “It amazes me that you just blindly buy into whatever story Potter has told you. He just sits down, spews some bull shit and you’re on board?”

She blinked at him slowly before crossing her arms over her chest. “Harry hasn’t told me anything specific yet. These are all things I’ve gathered based on observation, and what you’ve just revealed.”

Draco stared for a moment. It had been a while since he’d interacted with someone that was able to challenge him intellectually, nevermind trick him into giving information. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, so he said nothing, hoping she’d get to the point and he could move away from this.

“Harry’s stubborn and convinced you’re up to no good. If you continue to taunt and egg him on, these encounters between the two of you are only going to increase.”

“It’s not my job to stop that. Potter is his own person.” He ignored the pang in his chest at her words. He’d done good things before. He didn’t have anything to prove to Granger, no matter how inclined he felt. 

“Malfoy.” 

“Granger.”

She dropped her voice and loosened her balled fists. “I’m asking a favor of you.” 

For the first time since Malfoy had seen her at the beginning of fifth year— unbridled confidence and arrogance wrapped up in one muggle born witch— she looked uncomfortable. And not in the I’m-injured-and-it-hurts-to-move type of way, but like she was unsure of herself.

“Drop whatever it is that you’re doing and  _ move on.  _ Please.”

And she had him, with the vulnerability and sheer rawness wrapped up in that word. One word— a word that Draco had learned in his etiquette classes and had used in monotone obedience since he could first remember speaking— was able to break down all the defences he’d been building since his first Occlumency lesson with Snape.

“It’s not my job to make sure I don’t hurt Potter’s feelings,” he insisted, growing irritable and suddenly wishing he could flee. 

“That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it. This is bigger than just a schoolyard rivalry.”

She wasn’t even emotional, he realized. Her words and inflection were no different than they had ever been. But something about the way she was right now, pulled deep within him and he almost felt like he couldn’t tell her no. 

“If you back off then there’s only so much he can work with.”

She’d stopped insulting him. He could probably make negotiations, walk away with a deal that did nothing but benefit him. Draco suddenly had all the power. 

“I’m not doing it.”

All the power, and no interest in using it. 

She pressed her lips together. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

It was in the eyes, he realized. They held all of the emotions and truths she attempted to hold back. If he couldn’t hear her he’d still know what she wanted. It wasn’t the words, but the way her eyes pleaded for him to know how much she needed this reassurance. It felt like a test, and if he passed he knew there was something great and wonderful on the other side. 

But there was a new world coming, and none of it held any of those positive connotations.

And there would be no room for Hermione Granger and her stupid, expressive brown eyes.

“If Potter can’t control himself then perhaps you should get a collar and leash with his initials on it.” 

With that, he shoved the tapestry aside and headed towards the Slytherin dorms, pretending like her expression wasn’t burned into his memory. 

\---

Two nights later, Draco was headed to the Prefect’s bathroom to meet up with Granger for their first rounds together.

He hadn’t spoken to her since the first night, and wasn’t planning on breaking the silence tonight.

He had thought about Granger a lot more than he should have over the summer. During Occlumency lessons with Snape he saw him rifling through them carelessly. Draco tried his best to keep them hidden behind walls, but no matter what they always presented at some point.

Snape never mentioned them directly— probably not interested in watching two of his own students shag in all different parts of the castle— but he never failed to remind Draco of the danger of the emotions tied to memories and how they could be used against him.

Some days, especially in the beginning, Draco would lie about the idea of any emotion being attached to those memories. Snape never countered back, but he kept searching for those specific moments, and Draco had read enough Occlumency books to know that memories with the heaviest emotions associated with them were the hardest to hide— and therefore the best to use when practicing. 

“Malfoy,” Granger greeted when he’d arrived.

“Granger.”

She walked forward, wand gripped loosely in her right hand and her hair pulled back into the same two tight braids she’d donned at the end of last year. They made Draco uneasy.

They continued on in silence like that for the first hour or so. There wasn’t much active patrolling that needed to be done within the first few weeks of school, and time seemed to drag on.

“Harry’s following you,” Granger said, walking back from peeking behind a tapestry. “He’s convinced you’re up to sinister, no good acts and wants to catch you in it.”

Draco cocked his head to the side at her. “Why are you telling me this?”

She shrugged. “Because I’m a better person than you.”

They continued on in silence for the rest of the night.

\---

The next time they did rounds, Draco spoke first.

“I’m not a bad person for not babying Potter the same way you do.”

“Helping out a friend isn’t the same as coddling,” she said, fingers playing with the end of a braid that her hair seemed to always be tied in.

“You’re going behind his back and asking his enemy to drop everything that’s between us.” Draco opened the door to an empty classroom and peered in. “How would he feel if he knew what you were doing?”

“Pretending this is the only secret that I’m keeping from him, right?” The arrogance in her tone was back and Draco was in no mood to lose whatever it was they had building. 

“Perhaps I should just go up to Potter and let him know I shagged you up and down these hallways then.”

Granger scoffed, head facing forward as they made their way down the corridor.

“Even if you were delusional enough to think he’d believe you, what motive do you have for that?”

“Ruining your relationships with him and Weasley.”

Granger stopped then, gaze staying forward for a moment before turning and looking at him with confusion.

“You don’t want to destroy me or my relationships.”

Draco stopped as well. “What makes you say that?”

She was silent for a moment, head tilted up to the side and lips slightly quirked up. Eventually, she shook her head. 

“Besides, if you think you can ruin the bond between the three of us with mere words, I’d like to see what you have to say.”

Draco had friends, people he could depend on and enjoyed hanging around with between classes and on holiday breaks. 

But there wasn’t a single one of his inner circle that he couldn’t take down with less than five words. He wasn’t sure why Granger thought she was any different. 

“I could ruin you, Granger.”

She continued walking down their usual path. 

“Whatever you say, Malfoy.”

\---

“You think Potter is better than me.”

Granger didn’t look up from where she’d set her gaze, far in front of herself. “I think Harry is one of the best people in the world.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s asinine. Harry’s my best friend and you’ve failed to show basic human decency in nine out of ten occasions.”

Draco titled his head towards her. “What’s the tenth occasion?”

Granger’s fingers twitched at her side. She turned to peer down an empty alcove. 

“You watched out for me,” she said.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Pardon?”

“Last year in the Great Hall. After the battle.” 

Draco stayed silent, hoping she would elaborate. Not because he didn’t know what she meant, but because he longed to hear it said out loud, and he couldn’t be the one to do so.

“I don’t know if you knew at the time, but I did.”

“Sounds like you were watching me, too.”

She shrugged. “I’ve always watched you, it’s just now I’m not sure why.”

\---

“Potter’s going to get himself hurt if he doesn’t brighten up.”

“Same could be said for you.”

“I’m not going to protect him.”

“I don’t ask more than once.”

They didn’t speak for the rest of rounds. Draco searched for something, anything to say because he felt like if they left on that note then he would lose to Granger once more.

In the end, he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t involve him putting both of them in danger. His mind wasn’t safe, and he wasn’t strong enough to change that.

As they parted ways at the end of the night, Granger turned toward him.

“Malfoy.”

He didn’t turn to face her, but stopped in his tracks. 

“I’ve been telling Harry he’s wrong in his pursuit after you. Don’t make me a fool here.”

If he stayed any longer, everything would come out. His feet felt heavier than his body could bear, but he forced them to lift, trying to walk steadily down the hall and act as if his mind wasn’t on the brink of a breakdown.

\---

The next day after dinner, Draco rushed into the library and slammed into the seat next to Granger. They were only a few weeks into school which meant it was relatively empty, but she could always be found here, no matter how little schoolwork was assigned.

“You know, I’m really tired of you thinking you’re better than me.”

Granger didn’t put her quill down. “What’s this referring to? Because according to the most recent Potion’s marks I  _ am  _ better than you.”

Draco clenched his fists under the table. “Just because you take it as your life mission to kiss the ground that Potter walks on doesn’t mean everyone else needs to fall in line.”

She turned to a book on her left and flipped a few pages. “Are we having this conversation again?”

“What’s so great about Potter that you think you need to micromanage his life?”

“It’s called helping, Malfoy!” Granger turned to him sharply and threw her hands in the air. “Sometimes we struggle and friends are there to try and lighten the burden of living, because newsflash, when we aren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths sometimes things as simple as getting up in the morning and functioning can be difficult!”

“You think I don’t know anything about difficult living?” Draco leaned forward and snatched the quill out of her hand. “You think just because I’m a Malfoy I don’t have things I deal with?”

“I think you have enough power, wealth and influence to make better decisions than those who came before you and you’re choosing not to.”

_ “If you fail, you and your family will pay the greatest price.” _

Draco’s pulse was racing; the words ringing in his mind on a loop. He could feel the blood rushing right beneath his skin. “So because I don’t buy into all the bullshit that Potter claims I’m automatically taking the easy way out?”

“You’re taking the easy way out because you know he’s not lying!” She turned to the side and grabbed him by the shoulders, rotating him until they were facing head on. “Knowing the right thing to do and choosing not to do it puts you on the wrong side of history, and you know that too.”

Draco’s inner arm itched and he wanted to scratch it until it bled, until there was nothing but bone left because he  _ didn’t  _ ask for any of this and sometimes being on the bad side was hard too.

“You think you know me because we fucked a few times? You think you know my family because of their public beliefs?” He leaned in closer, chest heaving and nostrils flared. “Because we are capable of so much more than anything you can imagine.”

Granger held his eye contact for a moment, studying. Her eyes were still so expressive, full of the hope he had long ago abandoned along with his toy broom and potion’s play set. Eventually, she dropped them and began packing her belongings away. 

“I wonder what you could do with that type of influence if you weren’t such a hypocrite.”

And he was, but not for the reasons she thought.

“My side was chosen for me, long before I was born. So was yours. None of this has ever been up for debate.”

She continued to angrily stuff her things away. “You were the one who sought me out.”

“Because I’m trying to  _ understand—” _

She whipped her head up. “Understand what, Malfoy? Why I’m standing by the person who has promised and dedicated himself to fighting for the mudbloods?” She gestured to herself up and down. “I’ve got nothing left if we lose this war. I’ve lost everything if Voldemort comes out on top.” She threw her bag over her shoulder and stood. “His status and fame never had anything to do with it. Harry and Ron are my family and they’re all I’ve got. So if I seem a little distant to the people whose families are fighting against me and everything I stand for, then stop being so dense and go  _ fuck  _ off.”

\---

Snape and Draco had Occlumency practice every Tuesday and Thursday evenings after dinner. At the one following Granger and his blowout in the library, Snape seemed to take a serious interest in what she had to say.

When Draco pushed him out, he was panting and leaning heavily against a desk while Snape stood in front of him, a strange look on his face. 

“Why did you look so hard?” Draco pushed off the tabletop and glared at Snape. “You said you wouldn’t examine my memories.”

“This is a useful one,” he said, turning around and reaching for a piece of parchment and quill.

Draco peered over his shoulder. “What are you writing?”

“Don’t attempt to hide that memory away. It shows your loyalty to the Dark Lord.”

“That’s not why you’re interested in it.”

“Draco,” Snape said, standing up straight and tucking the parchment away, “just because you’ve received the Dark Mark doesn’t make you privy to all information.” Snape eyed him from head to toe. “Especially not with your remarkably unexceptional Occlumency walls.”

Draco pressed his lips together. 

“You may go back to the dormitories now.”

Draco turned and walked quickly out of the classroom, shoulders heaving with his heavy breaths.

He felt  _ violated;  _ like his inner world and feelings had just been taken, turned inside out and stuffed back inside him, twice the size they had been previously. 

He was always extra emotional after an Occlumency session, but those all paled in comparison to what he was feeling now.

His vision vibrated with every step he took; his head was throbbing. He stuffed his hands in his trouser’s pockets to try and lessen their shaking. 

He thought about Granger and her distorted view of his life. 

_ If only she knew,  _ he thought. If she knew what the stakes were then maybe she would understand why he had to go through with the task he was given. 

There was nowhere to go, no one to tell other than the people that had already encouraged him to go forward with the plan. 

If he didn’t kill Dumbledore, then both of his parents died. Granger may be a saint, but even she wouldn’t put her parents life at risk. 

Actually, Draco knew nothing about Granger’s parents. Maybe she’d choose the cause over them.

If Potter and Weasley were on the chopping block, would she do what needed to be done?

Draco went to sleep that night unconvinced and anxious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be mostly skating over canon events, because up until now, all canon events have happened. So there will be no delving into Draco going into the Room of Requirement, building the cabinets or anything like that.  
> This was supposed to be a one shot originally, and then I was hoping to keep it to ten chapters. I still think that might be possible, but with that also understand that a lot of time might be passing during chapters.  
> The weather will be making a comeback next chapter. I'm hoping to wrap up sixth year within the next two chapters.  
> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: Draco is an unreliable narrator. This fanfic can (but doesn't necessarily need to be) used in conjunction with canon material to put some pieces together. Inevitably, this will probably raise more questions than it answers. Come find me on tumblr if you have any to ask, @hiccupfound


	5. Truth Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for depressive thoughts

Draco and Granger hardly spoke any words to each other over the next few months. Everytime he looked at her, he remembered that a private conversation between the two of them had been purged from his mind, and it violated not only him but her as well. When they met up a few days after to complete their Prefect rounds, she was standoffish and more distant than usual. Draco knew he should be grateful; he’d been trying to widen the gap between them for quite some time, but it was hard to accept, especially without an explanation. 

A lot of his best time from the previous year revolved around Granger, and not just their illicit activities. 

He enjoyed their banter during rounds, whether it be meaningless arguments or their exhausting need to outdo one another. It drove him towards something he couldn’t quite name— wasn’t able to properly identify— but it calmed him to be around her. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being propelled towards something better than anything he’d ever pictured himself having.

He should have stopped himself back then, once he realized he was in unfamiliar territory, because now he longed for something he was never allowed to have. 

They didn’t discuss class assignments, didn’t argue about semantics or debate the meaning of what they’d just learned in Arithmancy. They just walked, handed out detention slips and parted ways without a single sentence spoken. 

Now it was November, and he had exactly what he wanted. He’d been dealing with it best he could— by ignoring it and waiting for the one day the feeling would disappear completely— and slowly, he could feel himself moving on.

Except one day, he woke up to howling winds.

_ Stupid _ , he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Stupid, stupid,  _ stupid  _ Granger and her stupid body, which was the first thing he thought about as his eyes opened. 

How could he forget so easily? Granger hadn’t won him over with her sparkling personality or quality debate skills. They had been fucking for  _ weeks  _ before he’d ever thought of her outside of his lust hazed days. 

Anything he’d felt for her had just been left over, the sticky residue stuck to the bottom of a mug after a good round of butterbeer. 

These thoughts put his mind at ease, but his body was hot.

Over the years, the rain and sunshine seemed to have less and less effect over influencing his emotions. When he woke up, he could feel it the most, but he’d learned how to consolidate it into a box and put it into a far back corner of his brain. Not long ago, Snape had told him this was the building blocks for why he was so inclined towards Occlumency.

But the winds seemed to add another layer of complications. He sat up and tried to meditate the thoughts and feelings away, but as soon as he felt they were properly stored, he’d be hit with a wave of  _ need  _ that felt less like an emotion and more like a baseline instinct that was rearing its head because it hadn’t been met.

And they hadn’t, not in months, but it never seemed to bother him until it was  _ all  _ he could think about.

He should just stay in bed. There was no logical reason for him to not feign ill. No tests, no duties and no study groups. He could stay in, wank as often as he wanted and pretend like Hermione Granger held no place in his brain.

In the end, he couldn’t convince himself to do it, and this was the first instance that day he realized he had self destructive tendencies.

Wanking before class on days like these was starting to feel more like a routine than succumbing to urges. He pretended like Granger wasn’t on his mind when he came. 

A few minutes later, he sat in the Great Hall between Theo and Pansy. Pansy’s perfume still wafted off her in a faintly alluring manner that he thought might appeal to the less sensical part of him, but when Granger walked through the doors all thoughts of Pansy ran from his mind.

Later, he would sit and wonder if his initial interaction with her had caused him to imprint on her in some way. On days like these, his body craved hers, and when he let his mind get too far away, it felt like something he could die if he went without. Sometimes, when they’d already had their one shag of the day, he’d find himself needing to stop his feet from moving towards her, to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her. Some days it was painful to ignore.

In the Great Hall, it was all that times ten. He had to grab the edge of the table to resist from standing and walking to where she sat, surrounded by her Gryffindor friends, laughing. 

It felt like a personal attack to see her so happy while he was struggling. Last year they seemed to join together in their misery and happiness, and to see her on a different page than him was like a knife to the heart. 

He ached for her, in more ways than one. He knew it was all tied to the wind, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with in the moment. 

She lifted her eyes then, and Draco realized he’d been staring. Not in the musing type of way he normally did, but with lust in his eyes.

He had, quite literally, been pining after her. 

He dropped his eyes then, Occluding for a moment to prevent his cheeks from reddening and to keep his face blank. Once he was sure he was clear, he gathered his belongings and left, heading towards the greenhouses for Herbology, stopping by the loo first to relieve the pressure in his pants.

He spent the rest of the day in major discomfort, staring after Granger like a hunger crazed man in all their shared classes and fantasizing about her in the others.

Wanking wasn’t cutting it anymore; it hardly even took the edge off. He walked through the day in a lust filled haze, praying for it to end.

By the time dinner came around, he was ready to eat and throw himself into bed, hoping he could sleep through his urges to walk up and grab Granger by the wrist and drag her to the nearest alcove. It was getting harder to ignore as the day went on. 

On his way out of the Great Hall, Granger appeared beside him. He would have jumped out of his skin if he hadn’t been properly Occluding. Instead, he kept his eyes facing forward and continued on his path towards the dungeons.

“I’m headed to the library,” she said, keeping a far enough distance away from him that it didn’t look like they were holding a conversation, though the halls were mostly deserted. 

“A grand time, I’m sure.”

Her spine straightened and he knew she was rolling her eyes. In the midst of one of his more miserable days, he bit back a smile at the realization he didn’t need to be in a good mood to enjoy Granger’s annoyance.

“I’m sure if you joined me, it would be.”

Draco nearly tripped over his own feet. Beside him, Granger continued down their shared path and acted as if they were conversing about their potions assignment, as if she hadn’t invited him for a shag in the library. 

He slowed his pace, coming to a stop once he realized the halls were empty.

“Why are you doing this?”

She opened her mouth and then shut it, looking around quickly before shrugging her shoulders.

“It’s only an offer. You can say no.”

“I don’t know if I can.” It was out of his mouth before he could think twice about what kind of power he was giving her through his admittance. “And I think you know that.”

“I just—” She rubbed her upper arm and her mask dropped. She looked unsure and nervous, and Draco wondered if her knowledge of what the weather did to him weighed on her. “You’re not yourself right now and I know I could help.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Why would you want to help me?”

Granger lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t know, okay? I’ve watched you walk around in a miserable daze all day and I thought— I thought you’d seek me out.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he whispered. 

She dropped her arms to the side and shook out her shoulders. “I’m not here to argue or convince you. I just— I’ll be in the library, if you want to join me.”

She walked away briskly, leaving Draco standing alone in the hallway, unsure of which way to go.

If he followed Granger, there was no positive outcome. He was like an addict, going back to the one thing he knew he couldn’t keep under control. The hardest part for him to wrap his head around was that Granger wasn’t actually bad for  _ him,  _ just bad for everything he’d been building up to, everything he’d been told would be worth it.

_ But would it be?  _

The voice in his head that held doubts about the Dark Lord’s plans seemed to be getting louder everyday. Tirelessly, he completed his school duties and worked on the cabinet in the Room of Requirement. The closer he got to a resolution, the more uneasy he felt. He couldn’t quite place what it was— just a gut feeling that this was the turning point to things going horribly wrong.

And truly, before his dad was sent to Azkaban, this wasn’t something he’d thought about much. He was a Malfoy, heir to a fortune and destined for good living. If he ever felt down he needed to only remind himself that outside of this realm— being a teenager and dealing with school— things only got better. Success wasn’t just an idea— it was a promise.

So, if that was the case, why were his feet carrying him to the library? Why did he feel so hopeless when he thought about anything besides the offer he was currently presented with? 

He could stop, if he wanted to. He may be on the verge of losing his mind, but right in this moment he could feel his willpower rising. He could turn around and sulk in his misery for the rest of the night; wake up tomorrow and start over. 

He pushed open the library doors.

Granger was sitting at a desk in the very far back corner of the library. It was rather small, only meant for one person, but when Draco looked around and saw the area was deserted, he knew why she’d picked it.

She was writing when he stopped by her side, loops flowing from her quill tirelessly. It made his hand ache just to watch.

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.” She kept her eyes on the paper until her sentence finished. Then, putting her quill down on the desk, lifted her head to him.

“I’m weak,” he said, because it was true and he needed her to know that it wasn’t beyond his power to say no. He just didn’t want to.

“Is that what we’re doing here?” she asked, standing slowly and pushing in the chair. “Confessing our shortcomings in a hope it’ll ease our guilty consciences?”

He reached for her arm then, pulling her until they were chest to chest and she had to look up to meet his gaze. 

“I wasn’t aware you had any shortcomings.”

She ran her eyes up and down, examining his face closely. “That’s because you don’t know anything about me.”

Then her mouth was on his, crushing, searching for the same thing he’d been trying to find for months. 

It was a warm fire after a frigid quidditch practice. The smell of his favorite meal on his birthday. It was all those great things and more. He pulled her closer and tugged at her hair and tried to memorize all the sensations but it was overwhelming. She was in front of him, nipping at his lips and licking down his neck, but her presence in his mind was the most overwhelming of all.

It was pain and anxiety wrapped up like one of the dual flavored licorice wands they sold in Hogsmeade. It was shortcomings and missed opportunities all coming together to be forgiven for a split second, because while they were here, pawing at each other and clumsily undoing zippers— they were  _ enough.  _

Because Hermione Granger wasn’t as perfect and confident as he thought. When they broke away for a moment to lift her on top of the desk, he could see it in her face. 

She didn’t want him to know any of what he’d just seen. It was her secret, something she hadn’t shared with  _ anyone  _ and Draco had seen it all with just the touch of her lips.

He felt powerful and prideful but most of all, euphoric because he was able to take it away. Even if it wasn’t permanent, if it was just for a moment. He helped her forget, and for some reason, in this moment, it let Draco see through his own inadequacies.

He kissed her again, before the panic in her eyes could spread any further, before she could decide to leave. He kissed her until her stiff arms were back in his hair, until she was bucking against him and whimpering into his mouth. Only then did he let his hands slip beneath her skirt.

She was quiet, as she had always been, but this silence was more powerful than any screams of pleasure could be. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall the desk was on. Her eyebrows drew together as he inserted one finger, breathy sighs falling from her parted mouth. Draco felt that simply watching the act of her coming undone would be enough to finish him off, so he dropped his head to her shoulder and kissed her collarbones sloppily.

When she yanked his boxers down Draco could have wept in gratefulness. He slid inside her and stopped for a moment, trying to gather his wits, trying to memorize this feeling in hopes to recreate it later. 

It was the most sure of himself he’d been in months, standing there banging Hermione Granger into a desk at the library. They hadn’t touched, hadn’t spoken in months but he remembered it all— the spot between her breasts that she loved to have licked, that she fancied having her hair pulled and above all, that his index finger to her clit would have her in shambles in less than a minute.

And she was a mess truly, clawing at his back, wrapping her legs around his hips, trying to pull them closer even though there was nowhere else to go. 

He came like that, wrapped up in the sheer volume of emotions he was feeling, wondering if there was any hope of saving himself once they parted ways tonight.

When she pulled back, she kept her head down, focusing intently on righting her skirt. Draco stepped away, fixing his trousers and watching her with a blank stare. 

“It’s Occlumency,” she said, eyes still fixed on the ground. “I don’t think you meant to, but you used Legilimency on me.”

Draco furrowed his brow before his jaw dropped open. 

Draco had never performed Legilimency before. He’d become something of an expert at Occlumency in the past few weeks, and he definitely dropped his walls just then, but he didn’t cast a spell. He didn’t see any of her memories.

“It might have something to do with the wind,” Granger said, hopping from the desk and picking some parchment up from the floor. “It wasn’t— it wasn’t the same as looking at my memories. But it was Legillimency.” She drew her eyes up to his for the first time since they parted, and they were unreadable. “I know it.”

Draco opened his mouth, wanting to ask further about just  _ how  _ she was so sure, when Potter and Weasley rounded the corner.

“Hermione!” Potter stopped short when he saw she wasn’t alone. He was carrying three books in his arms and beside him, Weasley stood with his hands in his pockets. He eyed Draco nastily, but didn’t seem to be on guard. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

“Draco was just asking me some questions about Ancient Runes, Harry.”

She answered before Draco could even process the situation. 

Potter stared at Draco for a moment more, before turning to Granger’s desk and grabbing her bag. 

“Don’t go on my behalf.” Draco took a step backwards. “I was just leaving.” He lifted his eyes to Granger. “Thanks for the help.”

He was turning the corner before she could reply. Once was out of sight, he stood against the wall and listened. 

“I’ve gotten the books you mentioned,” Potter said. 

“I told you to grab those three days ago,” she scolded. There was some shuffling that sounded like Granger packing up her quill and parchment. 

“I’ve checked every day since! They must have just been returned.”

Granger sighed, and there was a beat of silence. “All right then. Shall we get started tonight?”

“It’s late, Hermione. I saw you in the common room at three in the morning. You need to get some sleep.” Weasley’s voice sounded warm and concerned. It made Draco’s chest itch.

“Tomorrow, then,” Potter said. “Come on Hermione, we’ll walk back together.”

And then they were gone and Draco felt… empty.

He’d always known his friendships were different. He could tell by the way they interacted that they had a trust with each other that was just… dangerous. They faced the chance of being betrayed daily with the information they divulged. 

But something about what he’d just heard was… relaxing, in a way. There was no coded language, no snide or clever comments that needed an immediate comeback. Just three friends, planning for a class assignment and making sure they got enough sleep at night.

Draco felt empty and numb, as if he’d drained all his emotions and was incapable of feeling anything else.

Except empty was a feeling too, and it churned in his stomach slowly, making its way up his throat until it settled in his mind with a bright, burning intensity.

It was like the comedown when he’d found pain relief potions in his father’s liquor cabinet. Draco had laid in bed for two days afterwards, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he’d ever be the same again. But this time, it wasn’t drugs but his own inability to control and keep contained his emotions. 

Draco dragged himself back to his room, feeling exhausted and spent, hoping to wake up with a new perspective.

\---

The next few weeks passed in a depressed blur. Draco got up, completed his duties and went to bed, feeling the exact same.

Hopelessness had settled back into his heart. Everyday the cabinet got closer to being complete was a sharp stab to his soul. It hurt to even think about it, some days. 

He hadn’t spoken to Granger since the night in the library, and she seemed to be on the same page as him with that.

Draco was afraid— of what they experienced when together, and of what he felt when she was gone. 

He had been cold since then, and even though it was nearly winter and he now needed a scarf and gloves whenever he traversed outside, he knew that wasn’t his issue. 

Granger continued on in all her warmth, sitting with her Gryffindor friends in the Great Hall, talking and laughing in a tone that made Draco’s soul ache. 

He watched her more now, knowing what he did about her. 

She had it too— all the doubt and guilt that he was feeling. Yet, she sat there with a grin gracing her lips and an arm around Ginny Weasley. 

He wondered how far she needed to stuff it down in order to pretend this way. She knew the answers to all the questions in class, completed her rounds diligently and sat to the right of the Golden Boy with her head held high.

But Draco  _ knew.  _ He had felt the absolute loathing living inside her, and he knew it was all consuming because he watched himself give into it a little more each day. He didn’t talk much anymore— preferring to sit and pretend to listen. He struggled to eat more than a few bites each day. It felt like the anxiety had filled his stomach to the brim.

Yet Granger sat not ten feet away, looking light as air and acting as if nothing was wrong.

Draco had spent more time than he’d like to admit on wondering what it was exactly that she harbored so much guilt for. 

What on earth could she have done that would make her hate herself so much?

\---

The week before Christmas came quickly, and while the others in his dorm dressed for Slughorn’s party, Draco headed for the Room of Requirement. 

He hated it there the most. The room was tainted with negative energy; it weighed Draco down the second he stepped in.

He spent a few miserable hours in there, fiddling with the cabinet before deciding he’d been diligent enough for the day. 

He took the long way back to the common room. He didn’t know  _ why  _ he felt compelled to walk by and check out Slughorn’s party. 

He didn’t understand why seeing Cormac McLaggen with his arm slung around Granger’s waist made his stomach twist so violently.

He knew—  _ knew  _ that their flings were nothing more than that. Times to get his frustration and emotions out when he knew of no other outlet.

There was no future with Granger in his life. He’d been chanting that like a mantra for the past few weeks. Granger and him could never be anything more than what they’d had last year— and even that was slipping into dangerous territory. 

But she was there, smile pasted on and acting as if she was having the time of her life. Draco stumbled away from the doorway, barely escaping Filtch’s wrath before Snape came and vouched for him. 

“You’ve got to be more careful,” Snape scolded once they were alone in the hallways once more. “What were you doing out in the halls after curfew?”

“I don’t have to report to you,” Draco spat, picking up his pace towards the Common Room.

“Draco—“

“Do you think I want you looking over my shoulder like I’m some child?” Draco turned on his heel, coming face to face with Snape. “ _ I’ve  _ been assigned this task so  _ I’m  _ going to complete it. Alone.”

He gave the password and was in the Common Room before Snape could reply.

It was empty, and he took solace in the alone time by plopping down on the couch and throwing his head in his hands.

He sat and tried to meditate. He tried to separate all his feelings and toss them into their respective boxes, but his mind was being smothered by the image of Hermione Granger laughing with Cormac McLaggen.

He didn’t know her, didn’t even interact with her outside of their rounds twice a week. Of course there was a possibility she was seeing other people. Hadn’t she even mentioned that the first night?

_ “You’ve no idea where I’ve been this summer, what I’ve done— or who I’ve done for that matter.” _

_ Had  _ she been shagging McLaggen all summer? Was Draco second best to a man that couldn’t make it on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?

It all felt painful and unbearable and Draco was close to cracking when Pansy slipped into the Common Room from the hall.

“Draco, are you okay?” She walked over and sat close to his side. She smelled of flowers and old memories that were too good to be true. Nothing felt real anymore except for the immense despair that had clouded around him.

“Where were you?” he asked because he wasn’t in the mood to talk about his imminent panic attack. Pansy couldn’t know. He couldn’t drag her into the nightmare that was his life because that would mean revealing many of the horrible secrets her father had been hiding from her. She didn’t deserve any of that.

“I was with a friend.” She placed her hand on his arm and a choked sound slipped through his mouth at the contact. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched.

He turned toward her, and their lips were mere inches apart. 

He wanted, so badly, to  _ want  _ to reach out and pull her into a kiss. He wanted for life to be simple and his path to be straightforward like he’d always imagined. Inherit his father’s business. Marry a pure blood girl. It all seemed so set in stone.

But he was staring at Pansy, trying to convince himself with everything in him that he could find satisfaction in a life with someone he had no true romantic connection with.

He turned his head away, gripping tight onto the couch arm. He’d never felt more like a coward in his life. The world was about to head into war, he was a part of it, and all he could think about was the misery he faced with his future wife.

“Draco.” Pansy hand touched his cheek and guided his eyes back to hers. Her brow was drawn in concern.

“It’s a mess, Pans. I can’t seem to get a hold of myself anymore.” He had nofilter anymore; the words fell out of his mouth without permission. 

Her thumb stroked his chin gently, lovingly and Draco leaned into it. “Are you okay?” she asked again.

And Draco was in shambles, breathing heavily, hands shaking violently. His vision went black, and when he came to his head was in Pansy’s lap and she was stroking her fingers through his hair lightly.

He was empty and numb, but not in the way he had been for weeks before. 

He’d been stuffing his emotions down, letting them topple one on top of the other until they wouldn’t fit anymore.

In this way, Draco knew he would struggle with Occlumency. He had mastered the art weeks ago, and was using it as a crutch rather than a tool. It was too easy to be able to store the unpleasant and unthinkable behind sturdy brick walls, but when they shattered— and they always, inevitably, did— they hit all at once, obliterating any chance at handling them with grace. 

Afterwards, it was almost relieving… like throwing up after drinking too much firewhiskey. You never wanted it to happen, but always felt better afterwards.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Pansy’s soft voice broke him from his reverie.

“I can’t, even if I did.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“There’s more at risk than what you may discuss over breakfast.”

More silence, only broken by Draco’s now rhythmic breathing. 

“Would you like to hear about my night, then?”

Draco turned his head so that he was looking straight up at her. “I assume you were seeing the mysterious man you’ve been screwing around with since last year.”

Pansy raised her eyebrows, jaw dropping open slightly. Draco pressed his lips together to suppress a smile.

“I’ve sat next to you and Daphne for years, you think I don’t listen to your gossip?”

“Then I suppose you also are aware that Daphne’s got no clue who he is?”

Draco shook his head. “She’s been begging you for ages for a hint.”

Pansy tilted her head to the side, Fingers running much slower through his hair. It made his eyes droop.

“Do you have any guesses?”

Draco pursed his lips before grabbing Pansy’s hand into his own. 

“If you’re fucking a Hufflepuff, please break it to me easily.”

Pansy’s giggle flowed effortlessly, and Draco’s chest loosened another notch. He wished things could be as simple as listening to Pansy’s laugh, because when it happened— a real, true dropping of her mask combined with the genuine joy that lit up her face— it seemed like anything was possible. 

“I’m a woman of stature and honor, Draco.” She studied her nails. “Besides, yellow doesn’t suit me.”

“A Gryffindor, then?”

A pause. “Don’t say I never did anything to make you feel better.”

He wanted to gloat, to inquire more, but a larger part of him was flooded with gratefulness at the distraction she had just provided— and the fact she’d done it at  _ the cost  _ of information on herself. 

Draco sat up suddenly, looking at her intently. She was staring back with a small smile on her lips. 

“I love you, Pansy.”

He thought about Granger and her shield of armor, and it hit him suddenly that she was able to keep up her facade because she wasn’t  _ alone.  _

_ “Sometimes we struggle and friends are there to try and lighten the burden of living.” _

She’d said it herself, given away all her secrets. Draco just hadn’t been listening. He’d been isolating himself and longing after people that, in the end, were more of a risk than anything else. 

He’d watched Potter, Weasley and Granger with envy the other day in the library because he thought he’d never have friendship with such ease. But sitting here, with Pansy’s arms thrown around his neck as she whispered words of affirmation and confidence, he realized that sometimes, he just needed to stop thinking and go with his instincts.

\---

“I’m a mess, Pans.”

It was two weeks after returning from Holiday break, and Draco was staring at his bloody hands.

The cabinet had required a few hours of attention, and things were getting messy. It was nearly three in the morning when Draco stumbled into the Common Room. Pansy was sitting in the armchair closest to the fire with a Witch Weekly magazine in her hands. She smiled up at him at first, but when her eyes dropped to his hands, she jumped up from the chair. 

“What’s happened to you this time?” She took his palms into hers gingerly, inspecting the cuts with keen eyes. 

Draco just shook his head, pulling away and throwing himself down on the couch. His fingers were throbbing to the same tempo as his skull and he longed for a shower.

Pansy sat down next to him, wand at the ready and arm stretched out, reaching for him. When she was finished inspecting his injuries, she placed his palms in her lap. Draco watched as his blood soaked into her skirt, wondering when Pansy decided to care so little about her attire. 

He noticed there was still a tremor in his hands. He tried to hide it, but Pansy was too observant. Her eyes jerked from his shaking hands to his face, which was masked by Occlumency.

“What’s going on with you?” Her voice was angry, bordering on scared. Still, Draco sat and said nothing.

Pansy leaned over and pulled a large textbook out of her bag.

“I only learned how to heal the cuts nearly a  _ week  _ ago, Draco. What am I supposed to do about this tremor and where did it come from?” She flipped through the pages frantically, placing her wand behind her ear. 

Again, Draco chose not to speak. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t tell Pansy that the tremors from the  _ Cruciatus  _ curse hit randomly throughout the day, because Pansy didn’t know about Draco’s Death Eater duties over break, and the subsequent meetings that often involved many subordinates falling victim to this curse. 

Pansy had been in the Common Room, by chance, on the first night after break. Draco’s hands had been dripping blood and Pansy had done everything she could to help. Unfortunately, neither of them knew any healing spells, so the most she was capable of was conjuring bandages and applying antiseptic. 

“It says here that tremors can be slowed by massage.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Well, let me start by healing the scratches.”

That very next day, Pansy had gone to the library and picked up books on healing. It took her five days to master the spell that would get rid of the injuries without horrible pain and scarring, but she’d been in the Common Room every night since, only going to bed once she assessed him for injuries. 

Pansy’s brow was drawn in focus. He’d never seen her so concentrated. She looked older, suddenly. 

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be a part of this.”

“I don’t even know what  _ this  _ is, Draco.” She inspected her work, lifting his left hand to the light, before pressing into his palm lightly with her own fingers. “You won’t tell me anything. I just sit here and worry, waiting for the night you won’t return, asking myself how late I should wait before I go and search for you.”

Draco grit his teeth. “I don’t want you worrying about me.”

“Well I do!” She squeezed extra hard, before releasing completely. She leant back against the couch and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “You don’t get to choose whether or not people care about you.”

Draco looked down at his feet sheepishly. He didn’t know how to respond because this type of relationship was new to him. 

Friendships where they don’t hide and they don’t lie. No convoluted messages or hidden meanings.

Draco couldn’t tell her about  _ everything  _ in his life. In fact, he couldn’t let her know about most of it. But he could sit here and accept her love and confide in her when he was feeling emotional. And he loved sitting and listening to her when she talked— when she  _ really  _ talked— just the two of them alone and airing out their fears and wants.

“I’m a mess, Pans,” he said again because it was the only thing that seemed true anymore.

“Whatever it is,” she said, sitting back up and cupping his face, “I will stand by you and help you through it.” Her eyes searched his desperately. “Just please tell me, before you get yourself killed.”

His walls were cracking. Through his Occlumency he could feel her reaching out, wanting to be there for him for reasons that didn’t benefit her.

Draco was new to this, and it didn’t take much for him to be convinced that maybe there was something to this friendship thing.

“It started last summer…”

\---

Within the next few weeks, Pansy was able to convince Draco to open himself up to Theo and Blaise as well. 

It made sense. These three had been by his side since he was just beginning to walk, and they’d never had more than a small blow out. He tested the waters first, revealing some minor infractions that could be used against him, but when the boys held strong he sat them down, with Pansy by his side, and told them.

They knew about everything. Except Granger.

For a time, it seemed as if this wouldn’t matter. Granger and Draco had hardly exchanged more than pleasantries during their Prefect rounds, and as Draco spent more time creating healthy bonds, he found he thought less and less about her.

Except today, he was sitting in the library, alone, when she plopped into the seat next to him.

He raised his eyes to meet hers, but kept his quill pressed against the parchment.

“Can I help you?” 

“I’ve got to tell you something.”

Draco laid the quill down, eyebrows raised. 

“In the beginning of the year, something happened, and it caused me to not talk to you for weeks.”

“We’ve hardly talked at all this year, Granger,” he replied drily.

“This was before we had sex.”

Draco pressed his lips together. “Go on.”

Granger placed her hands on the table, turning towards him until her knees were skimming his outer thigh. “It was the um…  _ phenomenon  _ that happened that night that actually got me really thinking about this.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Please, don’t leave me shaking in anticipation.”

“Back in September, we had an argument, and I told you something I’d never told anyone.”

Draco raised his eyebrows, interest suddenly piqued. He tried to wrack his brain for any information, but Granger shook her head. 

“Don’t bother, it was a minor slip up, yet…” Her eyes scanned his face, searching for something that set Draco on the edge of his seat. “Yet this minor slip up was brought up to me by the Headmaster not even a day later.”

Granger sat forward, placing her chin in her hands. “Don’t you think it’s curious, that something only you have at your disposal somehow ends up in the Headmaster’s army of information?”

Malfoy leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “If you really think I went and told Dumbledore anything—“

“You see Malfoy, that’s the thing.” She laid her hands down on the table, stretching them out until she was nearly touching him. “I know there’s no way you told a soul anything, because you didn’t even know you had any information to tell.”

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times.

“So it got me thinking how the information had leaked. For a while I assumed you must have known and had purposefully exposed me—“

“Hence the ignoring and cold shoulder—“

“—but after the  _ phenomenon  _ during sex in November, I was distracted. And it’s taken me until today to put the two pieces together.”

“What pieces?”

“You’ve been trained in Occlumency. I figured that out that same night, but it never meant anything more at the time. But I got to thinking. This had never happened last year. You hadn’t developed that skill yet.”

“Quite an observation.”

“Which means there was someone teaching you. Someone at the school, most likely. I’d noticed you getting better at masking your face to not show emotions.”

Slowly, the wheels in Draco’s head started turning. Granger continued on.

“And I just happened to remember that Harry himself had an Occlumency tutor last year.”

And suddenly Draco remembered. 

Snape scanning his memories and stopping at a particular one, picking it apart. Snape writing down something about the memory on parchment.

“Granger,” he said, sitting up quickly and placing his arms on his knees. “What on earth did you tell me that was so valuable it was pulled from my head and then needed to be confirmed by you?”

Her face was blank as she pursed her lips, eyes scanning his face skeptically. 

“I did something— controversial. Something that nobody had known about up until that point.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Was it illegal?”

“Frowned upon, is more like it.”

Draco paused, thinking back on their conversation and wondering how any of it was controversial.

“Why’d you do it?”

She frowned, eyes falling to the tabletop. “A lot of reasons, I suppose. But mostly I just couldn’t think of another way.” She opened her mouth and paused. “Do you remember what we’d been arguing about?”

“Potter.” Draco dropped his eyes. “It’s always about Potter, it seems.”

Granger grimaced. “Unfortunately, this has got nothing to do with Harry, and everything to do with myself and my inability to stay out of things.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I want to tell you,” she blurted out suddenly. “I want to tell you and I know it’s stupid, so I guess I’m just hoping you’ll figure it out yourself.”

Malfoy thought back harder, trying to remember exactly where Snape had stopped and thoroughly inspected the memory.

“We were talking about sides and why we stood where we did. I talked about my family, and you said Potter and Weasley were yours.”

Granger nodded encouragingly. “And?”

“And… and you told me to fuck off and stormed away.”

Granger smiled sadly at him, before removing her arms from the table. “You’re so close. If you figure it out, I’ll be on the astronomy tower tomorrow night. The weather is supposed to have high winds, apparently.” She stood and pushed in her chair. “I’ll see you around, Draco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want to take a guess at Hermione's secret? It’s not canon.  
> Hint: if you’ve read my other dramione: NQDM, you should know this!!!


	6. The Climax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while listening to my “depressed as shit” playlist, so put on your saddest music possible before jumping in!

The next night, Draco meant Granger at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

She had been right in her weather predictions; the wind was howling through the trees loud enough to cover the echo of his footsteps up the stairs. But for the first time since this phenomenon had happened, Draco wasn’t wrapped up in his own horny misery.

Because he had thoughts about Granger’s secret. And that was much more intriguing. 

“Granger.” She was sitting on the ground with a telescope and parchment laid out in front of her. Her braided hair whipped wildly around her. The sight alone was enough to make his mouth water, but still he pushed those temptations away.

“Malfoy.” She lifted her head from the book she’d been focused on. “Glad to see you could make it.”

Draco lifted his chin. “You think I’ve figured it out.”

“I don’t think your pride would let you come here otherwise.”

Draco scoffed. It was probably true, but once again he was disconcerted with how well she could read him when he seemed to know nothing about her.

That would change tonight.

“I’ve got some questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

Granger gestured to the space beside her. “By all means, take a seat.”

It was warmer on the ground, protected by the walls of the tower and away from the frigid wind. Draco also suspected Granger had cast a warming charm on the area. 

“Your family,” he said, turning his head towards her, watching as she focused on sketching out constellations. “I remember seeing them in the bookstore in Diagon Alley the summer before second year.

She nodded, not lifting her eyes from where her quill traced. “Yes, they were quite a fan of watching the magic flow, though I think they found the whole situation quite overwhelming.”

“That night in the library, you said Weasley and Potter are your only family.”

Her hand stopped moving for a moment before she laid the quill down. 

“Yes, I did.” She still hadn’t lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes stayed glued on her work, slightly glazed over.

“I understand what you’re saying,” Draco began. “I can read between the lines, but I’d rather not, because when I think of the words  _ controversial  _ in tandem with you claiming you no longer have a family outside of the wizarding world, I’m not sure what links the two together.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

That was exactly what had been distracting Draco all day. The conversation they had made it seem as if Granger had made a decision that… got rid of her muggle parents. 

“None that wouldn’t land you immediately in Azkaban.”

Her head snapped up and she glared at him. “I didn’t  _ kill _ my parents, Malfoy. I would never do anything to hurt them.”

He scooted closer to her until their knees bumped together. “Then what did you do, and why did it cause so much unease with Snape?”

Granger sighed, throwing her head back and looking up at the stars. 

“Snape, much like you, thought that what I said meant my parents were no longer alive.” She rolled her neck around in a circle. “Which isn’t true. I checked in on their well being over holiday break, and they’re fine.”

“So what did you do, then?”

She took a deep breath, folding in on herself. She looked so small and vulnerable. Draco hated it when she was like this because she spent so much time walking around like there was nothing in the school that could take her down. Seeing her like this, without her armor of confidence, was unsettling. 

“When Harry came back at the end of fourth year with the news that Voldemort had returned, it was terrifying, to say the least. I was kind of the exact group he was targeting, and I was very publicly one of his best friends.” Her hands clasped together in her lap loosely. “I thought that I’d come home and my parents would be dead.”

Draco’s breath caught in his throat. 

“I didn’t know how long Voldemort would wait to take action, and I figured I would be an excellent early target. I’d be safe at Hogwarts, of course, but my parents…”

“So what did you do?”

Granger tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “I thought about just risking it, honestly. I had no proof that he knew anything about me. I haven’t proved myself anything to be weary about, after all. He’d probably focus his effort on the wizarding world, first.”

Draco nodded slowly. “A logical explanation. So what made you change your mind?”

“I had a dream that he’d done it. He’d come to my house and slaughtered my parents while I was away at school. It was awful, even in the dream and not only was I destroyed, but Harry…”

She pressed her lips together. It seemed like she was taking a moment to compose herself. 

“I woke up from that dream and I just knew that I wasn’t the only one that would be affected by my parent’s deaths. Harry would hold himself responsible and I couldn’t bear the thought. He carries around enough guilt as it is. I’m tired of adding to his list of responsibilities. So I took this one on as my own.”

“So what happened?”

“I owled an of age wizard and asked for a favor. He came before the summer was over, obliviated my parents, and gave me a place to stay until school started again in the fall.”

Draco was speechless. He was trying to process her words— to think of an appropriate response— but his mind was absolutely blank.

“This was the summer before fifth year. I moved them away, though I won’t tell you where, of course.”

He sat for a moment longer. “It was Victor Krum, wasn’t it?”

A soft smile appeared on her lips. She turned back to her homework and didn’t reply.

“Wait, you said no one knew before Dumbledore.”

She nodded her head. 

“What about Potter and Weasley?”

“I know you don’t like Harry, but the thing that you have to understand is that he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. And that’s not just a joke about how the wizarding world is relying on him.” She looked up at him, eyes soft and searching. “If he knew what I’d done, he’d have blamed it on himself. And I can’t bear watching him suffer anymore than he already has.”

“Why me, then?”

Granger shrugged. “I’d say it’s because you already had all the pieces, but I don’t think that’s the entire truth.”

“Then what is?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that part out, but I’m not all the way there yet.”

Draco tilted his head to the side. “Tell me what you’ve got, then.”

“There’s a part of me that knows we're on opposite sides, even right now, before the war has begun.” She traced her drawn out constellations with the tip of her finger. “But there’s this nagging, larger bit of me that thinks it’s not too late to convince you to change your mind. And I thought if I opened up, and let you in on this secret, then it might stand a chance to be true. Besides, I know one of yours, too. I wanted to make it a level playing field.”

Draco watched her, speechless once again. He’d had no idea he was such an open book, that Granger had been watching him and reading him so intently. 

His heart was racing as he thought about Granger thinking of ways to get Draco to switch sides. The prospect had him ready to concede to whatever terms she wanted to set. 

But then he remembered. 

“Granger, I’ve got nothing to say to that. You’re fighting in a war that hasn’t started.”

Because he could save himself, if he opened up to her right now and told her everything. 

But his parents didn’t stand a chance. 

“Maybe so, but at least I’m prepared. Are you?”

Draco shifted uncomfortably. “You’ve got nothing to convince me of.”

“I’d hate myself if I didn’t try.”

She grabbed his Slytherin tie and yanked him forward, lips smashing onto his with all the fire and fervor he’d dreamt about the previous night. 

She poured into him, not flinching away this time as her emotions floodgates opened up to him and he felt the full force of  _ everything  _ she’d been hiding.

And it was a lot, perhaps more than Draco was physically able to handle. He felt the pressures of being the one with the answers, the sorrow at losing her family because she’d chosen the magical world. The fear at what was to come and the absolute love she had for the two boys that held her up even when they didn’t know why she was crumbling.

So he gave back, in turn, as much as he could. He showed her the pressure of never living up to the Malfoy legacy and the strong and frequent urges he had to abandon it all and make his own life. She kissed down his neck and unbuttoned his shirt as she carefully explored through his mind. She traversed the memories with Theo and Blaise. She watched in awe as Pansy healed his increasingly broken hands and held him when he collapsed onto the floor from exhaustion.

Soon, the emotional overload faded and it was just them, in their rawest form, touching each other heatedly and pawing their clothes off.

She was louder this time, breathy moans turning into full on groans as he entered her with force, spurred on by all the things he couldn’t name. 

He was so swept up in the act of it all that he almost felt disconnected. Things this good couldn’t be real, and real things couldn’t be this good. He watched her through half open lids and wondered when Hermione Granger had become his undoing. 

Afterwards, they laid on the ground, stark naked and panting.

“Krum was your first, wasn’t he?”

Granger giggled, snuggling into his side closer. “I heard the rumors going around the day after the Yule Ball, but they were false. I was actually quite cross with Ron that night and stormed up to my room, crying.”

Draco turned his head slightly so that he was glancing down at her now mussed hair. “That doesn’t mean you  _ never  _ had sex with him.”

“You’re right. I did, but not while we were at Hogwarts.”

“Was it over the summer?”

She was silent for a moment, but Draco could hear her muffled movements as she played with her hair. 

“I was quite grateful to him for what he’d done, and I think that’s why I went for it originally. But it wasn’t the only reason.”

“And not the only time?”

She shook her head. “No, not the only time.”

“Will you answer any question I ask you?”

“No, but I am interested to see what you do with the secret I’ve just shared.”

Draco shifted up onto his elbows and began buttoning his shirt closed. “Quite frankly, even if I wanted to tell it, I don’t think anyone would believe me. So I guess your secret’s safe with me.”

She sat up then, righting her robes and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, even as it blew in the wind, wild as her own personality. 

He still knew nothing about her, and as he sat for the rest of the night and watched her quietly doing her homework, Draco realized that he didn’t need to pry about her past or any of the other traumatizing events she was clearly keeping on lockdown. 

When he placed a hand on her knee she looked up, surprised, before smiling at him in a way that made his chest clench, because this was the realest thing he’d ever had in his life and it was temporary and based on the false pretense that Draco had anything left in him that was worth redeeming. 

He knew right then that he was lost, and if he was going to be miserable in six months over a broken heart because he was going to choose the wrong side— then why couldn’t he have these moments? Why would he extend his torture longer than he needed?

Years down the line, he could admit that it never crossed his mind what this did to Granger. He didn’t think about it because he was too wrapped up in the present to ever imagine facing the consequences of his immensely selfish decision.

So he reached for the back of her head and pulled her into a heated kiss, breaking the one firm line he’d drawn with Granger. 

They went slow that time. Draco wasn’t nearly as out of his mind as he normally was and now he knew that he’d need to savor this and every moment with her going forward because these would be the memories to live for when things got too dark. 

It was past curfew when they re-entered the castle, and Draco walked her back to Gryffindor tower slowly. He didn’t fear anyone seeing them because they always did their prefect rounds together. There was a bubble around them that seemed to guard them for the rest of the world and he felt invincible from it.

That night when he was in bed, he sat and meditated. He took all the memories of Granger— the smell of her, the taste of her skin on his tongue, her breathy moans in his ear— and put them in a box. He shoved it off to the side in his mind, and turned it until he could see the label.

_ In case of emergencies. _

\---

For the next few months, things continued on in the same heated manner that it had been last year, except with nearly twice the frequency and three times the intensity. 

Draco no longer needed the winds to blow for an excuse to shag Granger, and he took every opportunity possible to lavish in their bubble of safety and lust.

Some days she’d come and he could see it in her eyes— the same broken, hopeless feeling that he’d had sitting in the pit of his stomach like lead. 

He never asked questions. He didn’t want to know what Potter was up to or why she seemed more stressed than any of the adults Draco knew were in the Order. 

Her shoulders sagged as if she was carrying the burden of something that hadn’t been there in the beginning of the year, and Draco knew— recognized it in the same ways she’d been describing Potter all year.

The weight of the war. It was right there, holding down and reminding her that there was no Harry Potter victory without the brains of the operations. It sounded like a lot of pressure to bear, but to watch her struggle with it increasingly more each day was another thing altogether.

It didn’t stop their connection. If anything it seemed to enhance it. When the wind blew, he was still able to see through the window of her mind, much like the first time, though he could tell she’d been working on building her Occlumency walls. He wanted to ask her about it, but felt like a line he couldn’t convince himself to cross.

Things seemed to be going well— as well as they could be, all things considered. 

Until the duel in the bathroom. 

He had thought he was going to die, and all he could muster up was relief. 

He wouldn’t need to complete the cabinet. He didn’t need to worry about anyone seeing his Mark anymore. Dumbledore could live.

So when he woke up in the Hospital wing bathed in moonlight, it was the most disappointing thing to happen in a while.

It took him a moment to realize Granger was sitting in a chair to the left, reading the  _ Daily Prophet  _ with her feet propped on the edge of his mattress. He stirred, turning towards her with a flinch, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

“Tell me it isn’t true.” 

He couldn’t see her face from behind the paper, but her voice shook in a way that made his heart rate pick up.

“What isn’t true?”

She slammed the paper down on his bed and leaned forward in the chair. Draco met her gaze and grit his teeth.

Her eyes were lit up with anger so strong it seemed to transfer to him. He sat up straight, suddenly feeling strong and proud.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking. Though I’m sure you’re aware your so called best friend did just attempt to murder me.”

“Harry’s already had his chat with me.” Her fists clenched as she placed them over top his blanket. “Now it’s your turn.”

“What is there to talk about? Potter followed me into the bathroom— because he’s been following me  _ everywhere  _ this year— and he lost control.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you want a play by play of every spell we exchanged?”

She stared at him, studying carefully before pressing her lips together and standing. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“How is any of this my fault? He fired the first hex.” He was able to match her for anger now, breath increasing and hands sweating as he remembered that Granger wasn’t just someone that murmured sweet words after the throes of orgasms. She was violent and crude when she thought it appropriate, even if it was unwarranted.

“Harry followed you into the bathroom for a reason.” Draco froze. “Tell me what it was.”

A pause. 

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Watching her face flash from anger to hurt and back felt like a personal attack on Draco’s sanity. So much of his own will to live had been wrapped up in her arms in hidden alcoves and corners of the library. 

Sharing cupcakes while on duty because Dobby adored her, and didn’t hold any grudges against Draco for his family’s wrongdoings towards him. Quiet kisses before they said their goodbyes and shared laughter after scaring the fourth years when they were caught snogging after hours. 

“How could you?” She’d let just enough betrayal leak into her voice that Draco immediately regretted every moment they’d ever shared— because nothing could prepare him for the immense pain he felt at the loss of Hermione Granger’s trust.

He wasn’t sure when he’d gained it, exactly, and he’d lied to her at the top of the astronomy tower all those months ago and he didn’t think she’d  _ believed  _ him. But somewhere between exchanged looks during arithmancy and secret study sessions, he knew it had happened. 

It didn’t feel like betrayal because he never thought about anything other than how good it was to be a part of something that didn’t make him feel like a piece of trash, and to know he had the power to make someone else feel important, too.

But it all crumbled with one sentence that he couldn’t take back, because she’d  _ seen.  _ She’d seen the look of guilt on his face just as Potter had in the Great Hall, but instead of jumping to conclusions she sat and waited by his bedside, never losing faith. Draco knew he might vomit if he thought any further, so he turned his brain off and started talking. 

“You can’t tell me you didn’t know.” His voice was nasty, crueler than he’d been in months towards anyone. 

“I trusted you.” Her voice cracked and there were tears in her eyes. Draco had watched her talk about obliviating her parents with less of an emotional display. It was methodical, a fact. Something she’d twisted and turned until it warped into a thought she could wrap her mind around without falling to pieces. 

Hermione Granger was a brick wall, and somehow Draco had scaled it and invaded her personal thoughts. This was the price they both paid. 

But still, he was angry because it wasn’t his fault she was naive. He was looking for a solitude, something to distract himself from all the awful he was putting into the world. He couldn’t be blamed for grabbing the first thing that showed interest and throwing his entire being into it.

He stood then, walking over until he was towering over her. She looked up with him, eyes shining and a mask of hatred pasted on her face to cover up the immense hurt he knew she was feeling. 

“Then I guess it’s true what I’ve always thought. You’re not as bright as they’ve always said.”

There was no slap, no nasty words thrown back his way— despite the millions of accurate things she could call him.

Her eyes remained on his for a moment more, before she turned calmly and walked out of the room. 

Draco was left standing, chest heaving, wondering what he was supposed to do with the rest of his anger when there was no one left to take it out on.

He paced the length of the floor, trying to calm his thoughts.

It wasn’t his fault. She was supposed to be smart. She was never going to be the one to get wrapped up with a boy that could ruin her life. 

She should have known, should have realized there was no good in Draco at all, that she’d created a false persona of him in her head and projected it onto him because she was alone and scared and maybe she was just as self destructive as he was.

He was on the ground suddenly, squatting with his head between his knees as his breaths seemed unable to come. His hands were thrown over his head, squeezing as if he’d be able to put some sensation back into his numb body. 

He shut his eyes, praying for his Occlumency to take over and shove all these feelings as far away as possible. 

How was it that Granger could say so few words to him and was able to tear him down? She could have done so many things, and it felt like leaving before Draco was able to properly lash out at her was the most destructive yet. 

Eventually, his legs gave out and he fell to the floor in a crumpled ball.

When he woke in the morning, he was back in his bed and Madame Pomfrey was forcing a strong sedative potion down his throat. 

\---

The next day he was released from the Hospital Wing before breakfast. As he sat down at the Slytherin table, he looked up to see Granger, sandwiched between Potter and Weasley, bent over the table and laughing, along with a group of other people. Dean Thomas was shaking his head at her and she shoved his shoulder lightly. She opened her mouth, saying something Draco couldn’t decipher, and the group broke out into another fit of raucous giggles. 

Draco would be more mad if he couldn’t feel the immense despair she was hiding. He was still upset, because she made it all look so effortless and Draco knew once more he was insignificant, even to the only person he’d found solace in.

She refused to do rounds with him. When he turned corners in the library, she was always packing up her belongings. 

He’s not sure why he isn’t arrested or investigated, but Potter stops following him. He doesn’t know what to make of it all and he can’t even ask her because she’s an expert at avoiding him.

He corners her one night, as she’s walking out of the Great Hall flanked by Potter and Weasley. He stands in front of them, chest held high and pretending as if his heart isn’t thumping in his chest.

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.”

They all four stand there in an uncomfortable silence. He figured she’d dismiss her cronies, but instead they step closer to her, and she lets it happen. The bubble of protection that once surrounded the two of them was now a force field around Granger and her best friends, one that Draco couldn’t pierce. 

“We need to talk,” he said, because there was no point in this facade and pretending like they didn’t know at least some of what happened that night in the Hospital Wing. 

She was still for a moment, looking unsure, before meeting Potter’s eyes and shaking her head. He looked over the top of her head and signaled for Weasley to follow him. Once they were gone, Draco started off toward their usual alcove. It was painful, walking there with her lagging so far behind, seemingly miserable to be in his presence. 

They took to opposite corners once the tapestry was back in place. She had her arms wrapped around a book and it reminded him of third year, when she finally set down  _ Hogwarts, A History  _ long enough for Draco to realize she’d grown tits.

“What do you want?” Her voice is cold and her eyes are guarded. If he wanted to gain anything from this conversation about her mental state, he’d be leaving disappointed. 

“Why am I here?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “For an education, I assume.”

Draco grit his teeth, fighting off the urge to grab her and shake some sense into her.

He was dangerous. He had proven he was dangerous, yet she still stood here, head held high and wand nowhere in sight.

“You know what I’m referring to.” He reached out, to scare her, to prove a point, and maybe even to solidify the image of himself that had been playing on repeat in his head. 

She grabbed his wrist, eyes locked on his. He was frozen, trying to decipher the look on her face.

She lowered his arm and then flipped it over. Her gaze dropped as she pushed the sleeve up, revealing his Dark Mark in all it’s horrifying glory.

She watched for a moment as Draco’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to snatch back his arm and storm away, but something about the way she was acting kept him planted. 

Eventually she let go and took a step backwards. Somehow, they’d moved closer together. 

She went to walk away and Draco stepped into her path, blocking the exit.

“Granger. Please, answer me.”

Again, she met his eyes like she had nothing to fear. Maybe she didn’t, because maybe he’d failed at being bad, too. 

“I don’t owe you anything, Draco.”

And then she was gone, and Draco was left alone once more. 

\---

The night Draco was told he’d killed Dumbledore went nothing like he thought it would. There was no fear in his eyes, no surprise or hatred. Just the same twinkling look Draco had always hated.

He couldn’t do it. He’d never imagined that. He always knew he’d hate himself for it, but always thought he’d love his family enough to follow through with it.

In the end, he was swept away as Snape finished off the act. There for him, just as Draco had always begged him not to be, and Draco had never hated him more for it.

They apparated back to the Manor, and Draco waited for the ultimate punishment that never came. He had just enough feeling in him to be disappointed.

Because now he’d have to live out this war on the wrong side, and without the accomplishments that were going to distance him from the other Death Eaters.

And he wasn’t sure he could make it out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prob in all my dramione fanfics (and I’ve got two others in the works) Hermione will have obliviated her parents the summer before fifth year, because someone headcanoned this in a post on tumblr and I immediately accepted it as a fact. Though you’ll see in this story there are a few different details.
> 
> While I was writing this I was constantly thinking about what was going through Hermione’s head, or what she’d be doing while we’re following Draco. He’s literally one of the most unreliable narrators I’ve ever written. Part of me really wants to write a Hermione POV after this...


	7. The Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for graphic depictions of violence.  
> This chapter has been vaguely edited, but I'm just ready to get it out there, so sorry for any mistakes. This chapter is just build up for what's to come.

The summer after sixth year passed in greater misery than Draco had ever experienced. Each day seemed to drag on slower than the last until it all stood still on the first day of August.

Late in the night Rowle and Dolohov were apparated in, drooling, incoherent, and wiped of all memories. It took hours for the doctor they kept in the Manor to figure out how to undo it, and when they asked Dolohov who cast the charm, Draco knew even before the words passed his dry lips.

“Potter’s mudblood.”

It was all Draco could process, at the time. More words were said, with great hate and more venom than any basilisk could ever inject, but it was all buzzing in his ear. 

“How could she learn to cast one so strong?” His mother was kneeling on the floor, cleaning crusted blood off Rowle’s forehead with a furrowed brow. 

Draco knew she had spent weeks studying memory charms before deciding to cast one on her parents, and years after that to keep up on the updated research so that she’d maybe one day be able to lift it. 

She made herself an expert, and therefore a target. He wondered if she’d known she’d be able to use all the love she had for her parents as a weapon during war.

Not even twelve hours later, a team was being sent out on a mission to her house. How ironic it was, Draco thought, that the very thing she’d done to protect her parents was the thing that brought her into the spotlight.

Draco didn’t want to be sent on the mission, but it wasn’t as if he had a choice. If he even so much as showed fear he’d be  _ crucio’d _ until unconscious.

So he kept his walls up high and apparated alongside Greyback. 

The house was empty and dusty when they arrived. Fenrir was spitting angry, but the others seemed undeterred. They explored the house silently, looking for any clues or signs that might lead them to her current location.

“We won’t find anything,” Draco said. He was still standing in the middle of the kitchen that they’d popped into. It felt like a violation to be in her space like this without permission. 

Granger grew up here, loved and argued and took away her parents memories here. It felt more vulnerable than the girl he remembered, the person he fought to not think about for all these months. 

“That’s all right,” Macnair said, grin splitting his face. “She’s bound to slip up at some point.”

Draco’s stomach dropped, because he knew it was the truth. The odds that all three of the Golden Trio made it out of the war alive was growing slimmer by the day, and he knew Granger would be the first to put herself on the chopping block. Not that all three of them weren’t bloody stupid enough to volunteer, but she’d be able to manipulate the other two into believing it was the best decision. 

She didn’t stand a chance if they got caught. 

\---

It took three weeks for Draco to realize Luna Lovegood was in his basement. 

He was in and out of Hogwarts often, being pulled out for missions and sent back in to scare the other students into falling in line. (Not that it had been working, as the only ones left that wouldn’t comply were part of Potter’s old dueling club, and Draco knew they’d rather be tortured to death than give into the cause.)

So he’d been away at Hogwarts for a bit before his Dark Mark burned and he was summoned back to the Manor. 

He didn’t make his way to the dungeons right away, but eventually he was sent down to deliver the food to the prisoners. He noticed there were a couple extra meals, but truthfully he had shoved the fact that there were  _ humans  _ being kept and tortured in his house so far behind his Occlumency walls that at the time he couldn’t ponder what it meant even if he wanted to. 

So when he spotted her long blonde hair out of the corner of his eye, it hit him so hard that he actually dropped the food.

Not that it mattered. They were prisoners and they literally ate off the floor anyways. So Draco gathered it all back up, shoved it through the hole and sped away, up into his bedroom and into the bathroom where he vomited the contents of his stomach immediately.

He’d seen so many horrible things done to people he didn’t know, or didn’t particularly care about. Sure, he’d watched one of the Hogwarts teachers be murdered, and it was quite traumatizing, but he’d never interacted with the Muggle Studies professor before. It could have been any random witch on the street for all it mattered.

But this was someone he’d spent the past five years in school with. He didn’t talk to her much, but he watched her often.

Granger was quite close with her, and often having an infatuation with Hermione Granger meant seeing and figuring out a lot of her friends.

Luna Lovegood was quite interesting. She walked as if she weighed nothing and looked around as if she could see through walls and people. If she ever looked you in the eye, it felt as if she could peer all the way to your soul, and no matter how bad what she saw was, she always smiled. 

She was as free as anything Draco could think of, not held by the same social constructs that nailed him to the floor.

But now she was underground and behind bars, and it felt more wrong than anything he’d seen in weeks.

He didn’t see her again until nearly a month later, when he was once again asked to bring the food down.

She was there waiting at the bars, and Draco froze at the foot of the steps when he saw her eyes on him.

“Draco,” she said with a soft smile.

He stepped forward slowly, attempting to lift his lips into a smile but he was sure it mirrored a grimace more than anything.

“I sort the food into equal parts,” she explained as he passed the tray through the bars.

Draco nodded slowly before turning around and heading back for the steps.

“It’s not your fault.”

He stopped in his tracks, left foot raised to the stairs. It was silent, not even the dripping of the pipes interrupted.

“I don’t think anyone has told you so, and I thought you should know.”

Draco disappeared before she could say anything else.

\---

The first day the winds blew hard enough to awaken the monster inside him, Draco was at Hogwarts and grateful for it.

Blaise attempted to drag him out of bed, and Theo begged for him to listen. It wasn’t like the old days; people weren’t allowed to miss classes without severe consequences. 

But Draco wasn’t at the same levels as the others, and even though they’d seen his Dark Mark and accepted it as something bigger than they could understand, they refused to treat him any differently than they had before.

So Draco stuck his curtains clothes and warded the area around his bed. He didn’t want to be bothered, didn’t care to deal with whatever trouble he was in until he had his head on straight and could properly occlude all images of Hermione Granger back into his little  _ emergencies only  _ box that he’d yet to open, until today when they all came flying out without permission the moment his eyes snapped open.

It was an awful day. He sweat through his clothes and sheets, a fever high enough that no cooling charm would stick settling over him and muddling his thoughts.

Granger was on his mind for the entirety of the day. Old memories of them bickering, arguing until suddenly her lips were on his and there was nothing more to be said. He remembered her laughter, the rare few times when the heaviness of the world left their vicinity and they were able to just be two teenagers, running around the castle and exploring more abandoned alcoves than any other students would be able to get away with. 

He recalled all the lies he’d fed her in order to keep his identity and plans a secret; played on repeat the look on her face when she’d realized he was just as evil as Potter had been insisting the entire year.

Later in the night as he lay, covered in his own fluids and hoping for the release that sleep would bring, he saw her, covered in dirt and shivering outside of a tent, wand gripped tightly in her hand as she observed her surroundings with a calmness that didn’t match the emotions she was projecting. 

It wasn’t something that was pulled from his memories, and he wasn’t sure where his brain got it from. Perhaps it was making visuals out of stories she’d told him? But no, he didn’t remember her ever mentioning anything about camping, and even if she had, why would she look so frightened? They didn’t often delve into their private lives after that initial confession on the Astronomy Tower, and she  _ never  _ shared her fears. 

He didn’t have much time to wonder about it before the exhaustion finally won over. When he woke up in the morning, the strange memory was stashed away firmly, along with everything else pertaining to Hermione Granger.

\---

“You asked for me, Professor?”

“Ah yes, Draco!” Amycus Carrow turned to him, revealing a crew of Gryffindors, ranging from first to seventh year. 

The younger ones stood, shivering with fear, but their heads held high. Three girls and a boy. They stood shoulder to shoulder, hands tightly linked. Not far away, Draco could hardly recognize a bruised Neville Longbottom, a bleeding Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnegan, whose eye was so swollen it was completely shut. They didn’t look scared, not even a little bit and Draco wondered  _ how  _ it was possible to so expertly hide their true emotions. 

“Disobedience,” Amycus said, shaking his head. “The lot of them.” He gestured to Draco’s wand, which was held loosely in his hand. “The young ones, I’m willing to give a pass. So impressionable, it’s hard for them to know better when the example the older students in their house have set is so poor. But these three.” Amycus clicked his tongue sadly. “They must pay a price. And the littles must observe, so they can know.”

Draco’s fingertips went numb, even as he fumbled to stuff his shock and fear behind his Occlumency walls.

“The cruciatus, if you will. I’ve got these two,” he gestured to Ginny Weasley and Finnegan, “if you’ll take Mr. Longbottom.”

Draco nodded, and it felt like he was watching himself from a distance. He grabbed Longbottom by the shoulder and shoved him roughly into the opposite corner, sure to leave room for the now terrified first years to watch. One of them let out a sob, and the girl on his left knocked into him softly, shaking her head.

Emotions were a weakness, the gesture said. And while she was right, Draco wished they didn’t have to learn it so young.

He raised his wand, the spell on the tip of his tongue before Longbottom interrupted him.

“I knew you were a coward,” he said, standing stall even in the face of torture, “but I never believed you’d sink to this.” 

Draco’s wand was frozen in suspension as Finnegan’s screams of pains filled the room. Neither one of them flinched. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see one of the first years drop to the floor.

“Smart enough to make the right decision, but too afraid of what it might mean.” Longbottom threw his arms wide open. Draco wondered what had happened to the soft boy he remembered. “Just do it then, won’t you? Wouldn’t want anyone questioning your loyalty.”

The first two times Draco spoke the curse, not even a spark flew from his wand. But the lack of pained screams had drawn the attention of Amycus, and with his suspicious stare, Draco was able to successfully cast on the third try.

That night, Draco sat in bed, hands thrown in his hands as his Occlumency walls fell completely for the first time since the war had officially started.

Somehow, Pansy was in his bed, gripping him by the shoulders tightly. There was a look of pure panic on her face. He couldn’t hear a word she spoke. Theo and Blaise watched on from behind. Distantly, he realized they were all in pyjamas, and he wondered what time it had been when he’d completely lost himself. 

The sun was shining high in the sky by the time he was able to make complete sense of his surroundings. His head was in Pansy’s lap and she was stroking her fingers through his hair. She was leaning against the headboard of his bed. When he glanced up, her eyes were closed and her cheeks were stained with tear streaks. 

To his left, he saw Blaise and Theo sitting cross legged, shoulders touching as they engaged in quiet conversation.

Draco sat up slowly, feeling as his bones creaked and ached with exhaustion. The other three sprang into action immediately sitting up straight and drawing their wands, but waited with wide eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, because he was and it seemed like the only thing to properly sum up how much it meant that they’d been there for him, in one of his worst moments. 

“Draco,” Pansy said softly, dropping her eyes to her lap. “You need to get out.” She raised her head and grabbed one of his hands tightly. “The first opportunity you get, you need to take it. Before it’s too late.”

\---

Opportunities to escape on the Dark Lord’s regime did not come often. In fact, as Draco looked around at all the scared faces as they sat and waited for the meeting to start, one could argue that it would  _ never  _ come. 

He was branded with the Dark Mark. No matter where he went, the Dark Lord would be able to track him down using this. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, though. 

Pansy, Theo, Blaise and himself had spent an extensive amount of time studying it. He was able to be summoned, but no one could force him to come if Draco chose to ignore it. Upon further research, they also discovered that using the Dark Mark he could be tracked down, but only if he was still for too long.

The magic needed to actually track him was extensive, took a lot of time, and required a very powerful wizard to accomplish this. It wasn’t that Draco doubted the Dark Lord's ability, he just knew that it wouldn’t always be in his best interest to follow through with this. 

So he had an out, if the opportunity ever presented itself. If he kept on the run, never stayed in one place for too long, then he could survive. 

He would take his mother, find a safe spot for her to wait out until the end, and then they could face the other side of the war together.

Draco thought about his father often, but in the end he knew his pride was much too large for him to follow through with this plan. He’d have to find a way to survive on his own.

They spent days on end planning different scenarios and opportunities, talking about how he could reach out to them so they could reunite with him. An idea he wasn’t fond of, but knew might make survival more likely.

Together, they would survive the war. Azkaban might await Draco on the other side, but at least he could remove himself from any more tortures and missions.

\---

He was home on Easter weekend, and it was the first time in a while the snatchers had wanted to bring their lot to the Manor. Draco had to admit he was curious who they were bringing in.

He heard the front doors open. Aunt Bella sauntered in with a wide smile and summoned Draco forward. No one else moved, and it was silent. Draco’s footsteps echoed loudly. 

Behind Bella and still outside, the snatchers struggled with a small group. It was hard to tell how many because of all the movement, but there seemed to be more than two, and they were fighting violently against the restraints put on them.

Draco watched as they were brought up the steps, inside to the light. 

“Draco, we need your help with identification for these three,” Aunt Bella said, a hint of humor in her voice. 

Draco nodded, and waited for the reveal.

In front of him, a snatcher threw down a man with a deformed face that seemed vaguely familiar, but didn’t grab Draco’s attention near as much as the two behind him.

Draco would recognize the Weasley red hair anywhere. Which meant…

He turned his head to the left and saw Hermione Granger, small, dirty and looking more frightened than ever.

\---

Things moved quickly after that. 

He didn’t identify Potter. Yes, he knew it was him, because even though he was deformed, Granger and Weasley were there and  _ Potter didn’t go anywhere without Granger and Weasley. _

But Potter needed to win this war. Draco wanted to escape and be on the run  _ temporarily _ , not until he died.

Potter and Weasley were thrown into the basement, and before Draco could properly process it, he was thrown behind aunt Bella and she was circling Granger, who was shaking, eyes closed.

She was thin, worryingly so. Dirt caked her clothes and skin, and anxiety seeped out of her mind and into Draco’s, filling him with more worry than he thought he’d be capable of feeling. 

And then Granger was on the floor, and things slowed down exponentially. Everything seemed extra detailed, from the ribs on Bella’s wand to the wild curls contained in Granger’s braids. He heard every letter as it was enunciated, the  _ crucio  _ hitting Granger square in the chest. 

Her screams filled his ears, piling in until his mind was stuffed to the brim and he thought his head might explode. He watched as she writhed on the ground. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds before he thought he was going to lose it.

Granger was sobbing, screaming and speaking incoherently as aunt Bella asked more questions. When she pulled out the enchanted knife, Draco’s feet moved on their own accord.

His mom wrapped her small hand around his wrist and shoved him back. Below, he could hear the cries of desperation from Potter and Weasley. 

The screams never stopped, not even after the knife lifted, blood dripping from the tip and coming to mix with the pool that had formed underneath Granger. 

Her voice was hoarse, he could hear it in the tone that he’d become so familiar with, but still it didn’t decrease in volume. 

When Bella raised her wand once more after Granger gave an unsatisfactory answer, Draco couldn’t take it anymore.

He ran toward her, falling to his knees and pulling her into his arms. 

He apparated away before anyone else had even moved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I wanted to stick to canon through this scene. I wanted to make Draco watch the entire time and I was even considering make this non-HEA because... idk how do you come back from watching someone you love be tortured and just... do nothing. (Spoiler: you don't)
> 
> But, this just... hit me. Maybe it's the depression talking, but I just wanted to give him the redemption arc he deserves. So, here's the start of it. (But don't think the angst is over yet)


	8. Freeze

They landed harshly on frozen dirt, somewhere in the forest Draco couldn’t recall ever going. Frosty grass seared through Draco’s thin shirt and bit at his skin. Immediately, he set Granger down on the ground and watched on with wide eyes as her blood soaked into the ground around her. 

She was pale and seemingly incoherent, not aware of where she was or who she was with. The screaming had stopped, but her silence filled Draco with a greater sense of dread. 

How much blood could she lose? There was so much already gone. It was on his clothes, dripping off his sleeves and falling onto his shoes. It flowed and flowed and  _ flowed  _ and all Draco could do was watch in horror. The world around them smelled of metal and death.

_ Think. Calm down and think.  _

He was on the verge of a panic attack, hands shaking and breathing erratically. That wouldn’t do anything to help either of them so he focused on any type of medical information he knew.

Pansy. She’d spent weeks healing his hands in sixth year. He’d watched her do it, listened as she murmured the spells over and over.

Draco removed his wand from his robes with quivering precision. He knelt down, refusing to flinch when his shoes squelched beneath him. 

He began the incantation, speaking it over and over, like the prayers from the fairytales he’d never believed in as a child. Once he saw the wounds on her wrist begin to close up, he relaxed a bit and was able to focus more. 

No matter how hard he tried, the scars on her forearm wouldn’t fade. His heart rate sped up as he read the word over and over, realizing there would probably be no way to permanently heal it. 

_ Mudblood. _

He sat back against a tree when he was done, breathing heavily. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to gather his bearings. 

Before he could even begin to unravel the consequences of his actions, Granger sprang up with a gasp.

She looked around, quickly taking in her surroundings. When her eyes fell on Draco, she slid backwards a few feet. 

“What did you do?” she asked through gritted teeth. Her voice was gravelly, deep in a way that made it sound like someone else was speaking. Maybe it was easier that way, Draco mused. To pretend like she was someone random, someone he had no history with. 

And Draco was shocked— so unable to process any of his actions over the past hour— that he didn’t even stop to think about what he could— or should say. 

“I have  _ no  _ fucking idea.”

She paused, mouth open and brow furrowed, seemingly in the middle of a thought. She hunched over her knees, chest touching her thighs, arms loose at her sides. Her hair was tightly braided, but her mussed curls were begging to slip loose. 

“Where are Harry and Ron?”

Draco blinked at her twice. 

He especially hadn’t thought about the consequences of any of this. It was probably the first thing he’d done without considering it from ten different viewpoints since he’d received the Dark Mark. He’d just seen her lying there, hurt and on the verge of losing the battle and knew he needed to stop it.

“Did you see me go and grab anyone else?” He leaned forward so their eyes could meet, back groaning in protest after spending so much time leant over her unconscious body. “It’s just you and me.”

She stood then, her thighs shaking dangerously. Draco watched her, ready to catch her when her legs gave out. 

“I have to go back.”

“For what purpose?”

She turned her head sharply towards him. Her eyes were filled with fury. “Harry and Ron are there! They could kill Harry and then this all will have been for nothing.”

And that was that. No further questions about how they’d gotten there, why he’d made the decision to leave, or even  _ where  _ they had ended up. She was just— up and walking after nearly dying less than an hour ago. All for Harry  _ bleeding  _ Potter. 

Draco stood and grabbed her elbow, stopping her in place before she could take her first step. She leaned into his embrace heavily. 

“They aren’t just going to head down to the dungeons and chop his head off. He’s got plenty of time to figure something out.”

“Or, we’ve got plenty of time to  _ go back  _ and get them ourselves before it’s too late.”

She tried to shake him off, but was so terribly weak from the blood loss that the attempt just left her swaying in place.

“Granger, I don’t know what you think you’re capable of right now, but if this plan involves anything more than walking a few steps, then news flash: you won’t be able to do it.”

“Then you’ll have to go back and get them!”

“Are you mad? I just apparated out with the person Bellatrix was torturing and you think I can what? Just saunter through the door, grab Potter and Weasley, wave a goodbye and head out?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, seriously looking like she might pass out now. Her skin was paler than he’d ever seen it, her body so thin he wasn’t sure how it was holding her upright. “It’s not my fault you didn’t think through this plan.”

“ _ Plan?  _ You think I thought about any of this beforehand?”

“I don’t pretend to understand what goes on in your mind, Malfoy. You made it clear it’s not a place I’m welcome.”

Draco bit back the urge to thrust his emergency box of memories at her, because in the end, all it did was prove her point. 

“I’m offended that you think I’ve used my brain at all since I saw you walk through those doors at the Manor.”

“The wheels sure seemed to be turning as you watched me make a scene.” Her face was blank, not even a twitch of the eyebrows to give away a hint of emotions. It didn’t matter, Draco could feel her turmoil like it was his very own.

His shoulders drooped and to cover it up he grabbed Granger and pulled her back down to a seated position.

“I made the correct decision in the end, okay? We can argue about the semantics later, just  _ please  _ rest for right now. I don’t have any potions on me.” His gaze fell down to her wrist, which was beginning to slowly bead blood once again. “I can’t heal you properly.”

She eyed him for a moment longer before slowly leaning back against a tree.

“You need to go after Harry.”

“The Dark Lord hasn’t been summoned yet.” He lifted his sleeve and pointed to his Dark Mark. “I would know. Potter has probably come up with a crazy scheme and they’re out now, looking for you.”

She eyed him skeptically. It had been nearly a year since they’d had a proper conversation, but he could still recognize all of her tells. Her face was a stone wall but she’d always struggled with body language. Tensed shoulders that showed her doubt. Hands crossed over her chest to protect herself.

“You don’t know any of that. How could they have escaped?”

“I heard them down there screaming the whole time you were… being interrogated. They stopped a little bit before you. I doubt it was because they’d suddenly found peace in your pain.”

“You don’t know that.”

“The Dark Lord isn’t there and I know that’s good news for them.”

A pause. 

“You’ll tell me if your mark burns?” 

Draco nodded. 

“Now we need to get back to them.”

He froze. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

“I’m sorry,  _ we?” _

Granger slowly undid one of her braids with shaky hands. He fought against the urge to push her hands away and do it himself. It was hard to accept he didn’t have a right to touch her anymore.

“Where were you planning on going? Aren’t all your friends Death Eaters or sympathizers?”

“Away,” he said, standing so he couldn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t want anything to do with this anymore.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

Draco clenched his jaw. He would forever be amazed at how deep Granger’s words could cut when just a few years ago they’d had no relationship outside of their schoolyard barbs and competitiveness in the classroom. 

“Did you prefer I stay at the Manor and work on the opposite side to you?”

“I’m just saying, Dumbledore’s death was kind of a catalyst, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t do it.” He still felt disappointed in himself for that, and he hated it.

“But you completed all the tasks leading up to that, right?” Her voice was soft, almost comforting in the way she wasn’t accusatory or disappointed like she’d been that last day in the castle. Like she’d accepted his actions for what they were.

Like she’d moved on.

“What do you want from me?” His eyes burned and his chest was tight. He wanted nothing more than to apparate away and forget all about the past few hours completely. 

“Accountability. You started this and you’re trying to run away.” 

“Because I’m not  _ strong  _ enough to stay.” He began pacing, needing to do something with his body to distract himself from the overflow of emotions he was feeling. He had forgotten what it was like to be with Granger— to feel her calculating stare observing his every move, to watch her conceal her true emotions better than he could ever dream— to want nothing more than fall to his knees and beg for the forgiveness he didn’t deserve.

Granger chuckled. Actually let out a small laugh. Draco snapped towards her and bent down to make sure she wasn’t still losing blood— wasn’t hallucinating from the extreme amount of stress her body had just gone through. But no, she was sitting there with her arms around her knees, shaking her head with a small smile playing at the edge of her lips.

“I’m sorry, but what about _ any  _ of this is funny? I’ve just completely ruined my life, and you’re hardly in any better condition.”

“That’s always been your problem, hasn’t it?”

He furrowed his brow, moving his legs out from under him and sitting down directly next to her, legs crossed. 

“How are you so calm about all of this?”

“That’s the difference between you and me,” she whispered, drawing her hands over the frozen earth. Her fingers were tinted pink with the stains of her blood. Draco’s throat tightened at the reminder. “All you ever see is the bad. You dwell on it, let it take up residency in your head and it spreads like a disease, slowly, until it’s taken over your every thought and you’ve let it consume you.”

It was eerily quiet in the woods. Night had fallen and the birds had fallen silent, if they had ever been chirping at all. Draco listened with baited breath, stilling completely when she paused. 

“You got marked and you let it be the end of you. You didn’t reach out for help, even though I was  _ right there. _ ” She lifted her eyes to his, bloodshot and so full of mistrust that it burned. “But you were too proud, and so you went along with something you never believed in. And then,” she began, voice raising and filled with venom, “things get too scary and  _ real  _ for you, and instead of rectifying what you’d already done and choosing to help out the people who could stop this war, you’re just going to—” she lifted her hand and flicked it in the air, “—run away.”

“I’m not the one,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “I’m not Potter, or even Weasley. I’m not the guy that’s down below in the dungeons screaming my head off for you.”

“No, you’re the guy up top that schemed and got me out of there.”

Draco stopped, mouth open and finger raised with more reasons why he needed to leave.

Because he was no good. There was  _ no good  _ inside of him. He was either evil or a coward, sometimes both, but never anything else. 

“Yet, it’s still about all the negative. You need to leave because you didn’t think things through, or you’ve already done too much damage. But did you ever think— did you ever stop to consider that the girl you first fucked in fifth year, had just as much self doubt and fear as you do?” Granger dropped her eyes, and he felt her icy hand wrap around his. “That maybe I’ve made some mistakes I didn’t think I could come back from?”

Draco swallowed against his dry throat. “Am I one of them?”

Silence. For a moment, it spoke everything he needed to know. And then—

“To be determined.”

And that was it. He was in. He hadn’t realized how much stock he had put in Granger's opinion of him, how much he craved her approval when she’d never been there for any of his tough moments. Not really.

He’d sought in her nothing but the things that had accidentally slipped out. Pansy had begged for the truth and his friends had stood by during his breakdowns.

Yet, it had always been Granger. When he was stressed or upset it was her kisses and moans that undid the knot in his stomach. He yearned for the opportunity to loosen the tension in her shoulders just once more, to have her approving gaze on him, even if it was for the wrong reasons— or if it wouldn’t last.

Draco let out a shaky breath. “All right then. Count me in.”

They sat in silence for a moment more, Granger’s hand still loosely wrapped around his. He relished in the feeling of her body next to his, even with her breath that was too shallow and her frame that was too fragile.

“Are you okay?” he asked, because even though the obvious answer was no, he wanted to give her an opportunity to talk about it. 

She dropped her head and her eyes flickered to the injury on her wrist. Her throat moved as she swallowed, shook her head and lifted her gaze back to his. 

“We’ll have time to deal with this later,” she whispered, and Draco had never seen Occlumency performed so openly before, but he imagined it looked a lot like this.

“You need to rest,” he said, pushing himself off the trunk of the tree and moving to stand, to—  _ fuck,  _ he didn’t know. Guard? Ward the area? Would he be safe sitting still this long? Would his mark give him away?

“You don’t have to do that,” she snapped, irrationally angry with a display of emotion Draco hadn’t seen and that was when it hit him, when he realized that things for the Golden Trio were really that bad. So concerning that Hermione Granger, who had remained stoic through everything life had thrown at her thus far, was cracking under the pressure.

Doubt began blooming in Draco’s stomach because he’d had a choice. He could have stayed and kept his head down as a Death Eater. He would have fumbled, and sure his conscience would ache more as each subsequent day passed, but he would be alive and— and isn’t that what mattered in the end?

But all his life he’d been sure that Potter would win. Potter somehow came out on top of  _ everything,  _ no matter how unlikely the odds were or how stupid and unfair it seemed. 

And he looked at Granger— with the dark bags under eyes and hunched shoulders. She’d just been tortured and he thought about sitting through that for a moment longer and… no, no he couldn’t have handled it. He’d rather be dead than know he’d made that decision. Because self preservation was one thing, but there came a time where you were so damaged, so bent out of shape that you couldn’t even be called a human any longer. 

There was a metaphor for Voldemort in there somewhere, layered under the other lessons he had swept under the rug and dismissed as unimportant at the time. 

The truth was jarring when it finally hit him, faster and harder than a quaffle on the newest racing broom he could get his hands on. 

Because he didn’t want to live if it meant sacrificing others and keeping quiet about it. He thought Granger writhing on the floor on the floor and screaming in pain simply for— simply for  _ existing.  _

He’d never realized the psychotic implications behind this before. Judging someone based on where they came from— and for what? This vile and proven incorrect notion that muggleborns stole magic? It wasn’t as if Draco had ever believed any of those tall tales. He knew magic was strong and powerful and greater than anything he could ever be. 

But he also knew that he flinched away from them in the hallways, liked to refuse to work with them on projects to make them feel smaller. He wasn’t interested in giving them a chance because he had everything he could ever need or want, and he was told that muggles could take it all away. That they were a  _ danger  _ to his way of living.

And then war had been waged and the way he was living was snatched anyways. He was afraid of the walls in his own home, spent as much time secluded in his room as he could and couldn’t bring himself to look his father in the eyes anymore. He didn’t feel proud or hopeful. Maybe he hadn’t in years.

He wasn’t sure anymore. He didn’t know anything.

Except... except Hermione Granger was right here, glaring at him like he was still the enemy even though his mind had been made up the second his feet left the floor, because anything that could make his brain go as wild and thoughtless as he’d just been— it was something worth  _ fighting  _ for.

He wanted to take her up in his arms, apologise profusely and swear it would never happen again. But her apprehension was well earned and he knew from experience that actions spoke more than any words he could ever say. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness right now and the realization made his throat tighten and burn, but it was less than he deserved so he relished in the feeling.

“You need to rest. I’m going to ward the area and in the morning we’ll reconvene and…” 

Draco didn’t know what came next, actually. His Mark hadn’t burned so he felt confident that Potter and Weasley had made it out. But he wasn’t sure how to make a plan in this situation.

“We have a place,” she said, sitting up taller. “A place we agreed on to meet up if we ever got separated.”

“That’s— that’s great.” At this point in time any sense of organization seemed beyond Draco’s realm of existence, but hearing that Granger had a plan (why was he so surprised?) brought both a sense of relief and dread all at once. 

Because hypothetically, he could try and make up for everything he’d done. Hypothetically, he could redeem himself. 

Hypothetically, he could team up with the Golden Trio to win the war.

Having it laid out in front of him, however, was a different story. Granger’s mouth was moving and he forced himself to listen and to stop thinking about himself for three bloody seconds. 

“—don’t know, I’ve never been there. We’ll have to travel by foot, for a while at least.”

Draco nodded, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Her eyes didn’t drop, and he hated that his mind wouldn’t let him forget that this was something she’d used to do, and now she was sitting here, completely unaffected. 

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

She tilted her head up, lips pursed. “Two days, maybe three depending on if I’m able to apparate tomorrow. There’s a spot not too far away from the place on the map that I’ve been there. We’ll head there and continue the tread.”

“Right.” Draco clasped his hands behind his back. The silence spread until it was uncomfortable, itching at his arms and prickling his ears. “I should go. Not— not go as in  _ leave,  _ I meant—”

“Ward the area,” Granger finished with a nod, acting with a calmness Draco yearned for. 

He turned then, wanting to get some distance for some much needed meditation and Occluding.

“Draco.” 

He froze in spot, slipping over a slab of frozen earth and trying to maintain his balance as his heart slammed in his chest. He didn’t turn to face her. His sanity couldn’t handle it.

“I just… thank you for today. I don’t forgive you, for what happened up until today. But I can— I can accept this action for what it was.”

Draco licked his lips once more, throat feeling tight. “And what was that?”

“An act of desperation.” His breath caught. “For someone you care about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one. If you don't follow me on tumblr (which you should-- @hiccupfound) then I'll just give you the TL;DR: stressful week that made writing this kind of mushy scene very unappealing and hard.   
> Which reminds me, are you following along with my new Dramione WIP? If graphic depictions of violence don't bother you, I recommend it! (Mind the tags, of course). It's a true enemies to lovers war era assassin fic and it's flowing real nicely and shouldn't be too long. I expect to update it frequently.
> 
> As for this story, I'm thinking it should be done in around 12 chapters. I've got a loose plan and I'm excited to finish it up!


	9. Face the Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait and I’m sorry it’s so short. Writing is hard. Next chapter will be longer I promise.

A few hours later, Draco was sitting against a tree trunk, casting continuous warming charms on himself and watching as snow fell softly onto the ground. It would have been peaceful, he thought, if he could think about anything else besides his impending doom. 

For some reason, he couldn’t get Weasley out of his head. Granger had accepted him for what he was (even if he wasn’t sure what exactly that was or what it should be), and Potter was… reasonable. His mind choked on the word, but he knew it was the truth. Enough so to put their differences aside, at least until after the war was over. 

But Weasley. God, Draco loathed to think about the way he’d react when they met up. Spitting mad probably, spewing insults that Draco would  _ have  _ to counter back with. The thought of Weasley getting a good jab in without countering back sent a shudder down his spine. 

And then there was the thing with Granger. Not that him and Granger  _ had  _ a thing, not anymore. 

But did that mean she’d picked up a fling with Weasley? They’d always been the talk of their year, even in the Slytherin dorms. Will they, won’t they and all that other stuff that was uninteresting until the day it wasn’t. 

Could Draco watch it happen? He remembered her soft touches and meaningful moans. His mind put Weasley in his spot instead. He shook his head hard. 

He thought if they even held hands he might vomit. 

He heard soft steps coming his way, but didn’t look her way until she lightly tapped him on the shoulder. 

“I can take over watch.”

Her eyes were bright and her cheeks red from the wind. She looked like she might fall over. 

“I’m not tired,” he said, turning his head away. “If we’re to be traveling by sunrise you should get some more rest.”

“You’re not going to fare any better than me if you don’t get any sleep at all,” she bit out. From the corner of his eye, he watched her arms cross over her chest. The wind whipped her loose hair around her shoulders. 

Draco turned to her, swallowing hard. His eyes dropped to her arms for a split second before he turned away once more, growing irritated. 

“I don’t know why you think a healthy me is weaker than a severely injured you.” Suddenly she was too close and the wind was picking up speed. Draco pushed away slightly on his knees. “I’m not completely incompetent and I’ll have you know I’m aware of my limits and how far I can push myself. Now stop being so proud and  _ go.” _

“You’ve no idea what I’ve been up to this entire time. The sleepless nights and days without any food. Running and listening and  _ fearing.  _ Not all of us have spent the war held up in a Manor.”

It was a low blow, and he longed to point out that it wasn’t that simple or straightforward. But one look at her told him that she knew this, and after all, things had probably been worse for the Golden Trio. Draco had made some terrible decisions, and he’d have to live with those, but in the end he’d suffered minimal torture and had been able to abstain from killing. It was about all he could ask for. 

She shuffled her feet for a moment more before coming to sit down beside him. Her thigh pressed lightly against his and he ground his teeth. He fought the urge to stand up and leave. It felt weak and Draco was so, so tired of being weak. 

“I have to admit I’ve wondered,” she began, leaning into him slightly, “what you’ve been doing during the windy days.” She turned her head towards him and his eyes shifted towards her. “Do I even want to know?”

He was silent for a moment, because this was the first that Granger had shown any ounce of caring about him or his actions since the day she’d left him, sleeve rolled up, behind a tapestry. 

Part of him wanted to let her wonder, to keep her suffering the same way he’d been about her. Because, god, it felt good to let someone wallow in the same shit he’d been in. 

But, as soon as the feeling hit, a wave of guilt swept over him. 

“I’ve grown to enjoy time in my own bed.” 

Because Granger had suffered enough at his own hand. And it’s not like he’d even thought about someone else. Not even when he’d wanted to. 

“You—“ she lowered her head in an act of shyness that felt foreign and unforgiving against his fevered brain. “You don’t need to be alone right now, though.”

Her mouth was on his before he could even accept what she was saying, before he could have even considered it, or thought about what being around her with the whipping winds and not having access to her body and mind might mean. 

And he relished in it, for a moment. The warmth and wetness of her lips on his, moving in tandem like they had never been apart. The tugging in his chest that had been such a constant pain that he’d forgotten about it— until this moment where it eased slightly, when it didn’t ache or burn. Where it seemed like Hermione Granger might be able to fix him piece by piece using nothing but her lips, and speaking no words. 

She reached her hands harshly into his hair, pulling painfully and suddenly it wasn’t sweet and healing— it was desperate, and not in the way that he wanted it to be. She wasn’t moaning and wanting and all the things he’d been longing for since the last time they were together, but—

She was pulling at him like there was nothing else to keep her grounded, as if without him she’d fall apart and he wasn’t the solution— he was just convenient.

Granger needed him now more than she ever had. But he had never liked Granger because he was needed by her. The best part about Granger were the ways in which she humbled him. The way she could crush his heart and five minutes later, be seated at the Gryffindor table, laughing her heart out and moving on in ways he couldn’t fathom. 

There was something reassuring in being needed by someone, sure— but to be wanted. To be the person they come to not because they’re relying on you for anything, but because they  _ choose  _ you day in and day out— because that’s just how much they care about you— there was a power in that that Draco craved. And even now, as hunger and desperation bloomed in him, he pulled away. 

She looked confused at first, furrowed brows and lips still parted, as if waiting for him to pull her back in. 

“That’s enough, for now,” he said, voice gruff. 

“What—”

“It’s not right, is it?” He gestured to her clothes, still stained in her own blood and her shaking hands laced tightly in her lap. “This— this isn’t the right time for us to be doing this.”

She scoffed. “You don’t want to?” She didn’t sound offended, but there was an undertone that underlined her well hidden insecurities. Draco felt confused and sad because he was starting to think he’d never figure her out. 

No.” His tone carried more command than he was feeling because it seemed as if he could crumble at any moment and change his mind. “I don’t want to be your excuse or your convenience when you want to break down. If you’re upset just be upset.”

“Don’t act like I wasn’t your go to when you were upset last year.”

“Are you trying to model your behavior after me now?”

She was silent for a while. Perhaps he was being too harsh, maybe he should be gentler with the girl that might not ever fully recover from the war that didn’t center around her as much as it should.

“You’re so fucking self righteous.”

And then her head was in her hands and she was sobbing, great body shaking, cries of pain sobs that sent an ache down Draco’s spine. He sat up straighter as she folded in on herself and she was small, like a child or a puppy or anything else that Draco could think of that wasn’t Hermione Granger in pieces at his side.

He didn’t touch her, because he’d been tortured and broken and even the lightest touch of unwanted affection could be enough to set him off. 

And he knew how much she wished he wasn’t there to witness her undoing. Not in the Manor, and certainly not here. Because, even though they’d never discussed her stoic demeanor or the fact that she hid her emotions better than an assassin on a mission, he knew it was an act for herself more than anyone else. She needed to act unbreakable to feel it, to seem as if nothing bothered her when she was just as much a person that could get hurt feelings and experience anger as he was. 

There were times in their first few years at Hogwarts where Draco needed only to look at her to elicit a reaction. He’d seen the change, sometime around fifth year, but he’d never truly cared about why the difference in attitude had come. He hadn’t had feelings for her at the time. She was nothing more than a meaningless shag. She wasn’t a puzzle. 

He never could have dreamed about why she’d built herself up so high. He couldn’t know that she’d saved her parents before anything had even started, couldn’t fathom what that was like until this very day, when he realized he wouldn’t be there to protect his. 

They were on the opposite sides of the spectrum in so many ways. Her acceptance of the worst possible scenarios to counter his absolute denial that he’d ever had a different option. The way she was the person that people turned to when they were unsure and desperate, as opposed to his friends planning his escape from the path he’d led them all down. 

But this… this breakdown after hiding it all way. He knew it all too well. He’d stacked his Occlumency walls so dangerously high until they had no choice but to tumble down, and it ended like this every. Single. Time.

In those moments he always felt weak and hopeless. Like he’d let everyone down even though crying wasn’t going to change anything. It didn’t make the things he faced any more horrifying, and it didn’t take away from all the things he’d survived by looking them straight in the eye and pretending to not be afraid.

He wanted to help her so desperately. Her sobs gnawed at his conscience. He didn’t want to put his words where they didn’t belong, but he had been in this place so often, thinking about what he needed to hear so he could pick the pieces back up and start over. 

“You’re not weak for this.”

Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her head was buried in the open space between them. Her curls were thrown over her arms like a halo.

“I’m weak for a lot of things.”

The words struck through him because God, how many times had he thought that about himself? She was so genuine in her delivery of them and it made him ache to think that she had probably never been as untouchable as he’d thought. 

“That’s not true,” he said, moving slightly closer. “All these things you’ve done— the decisions you’ve made. It takes a special type of person to make those calls.” 

She popped her head up and her eyes were boring into his, wide and desperate and full of fear. 

“And what if I’ve made all the wrong choices? What if I was never the right person for this at all?”

Draco hesitated, mouth open, words on the tip of his tongue. But with another look towards her, he knew only the truth could be spoken. 

“We raided your parent’s house. Back in August.”

She froze, shoulders stiffening and spine straightening. 

“You couldn’t have known that we’d be able to recover the memories of those Death Eaters. You might not have even thought that they’d remember your name, and be so angry at you specifically.” He lifted his eyes back to hers. They were full of tears. “But you had already thought of all the possibilities. You’d already considered all the ways in which they could hurt you. And it saved your parent’s lives.”

She was silent, tears falling from her face onto the ground beneath. After a moment, she shook her head, wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand, and stood. 

“Thank you.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper. Above them, wisps of sunlight began to appear over a mountain. 

She turned to him, the light surrounding her and highlighting her outline, throwing her face into shadows. With just a quick glance, Draco could pretend she was the same girl he’d known in Hogwarts, back before anything between them seemed possible. 

“It’s time for us to go now.” She reached her hand out towards him. “Together.”

He stretched his arm out and was pulled up, surprised by the strength she held. 

Of course, he knew not to estimate Hermione Granger. 

“How are you feeling?”

She shrugged, eyes glued on the horizon. “Ready to move on.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen... this meet up with Harry and Ron... I’m so fckn excited to write it. Hopefully it won’t take me another three weeks.


	10. Shit Show

Draco had been hesitant on apparating straight away, insisting that they walk a few miles so he could gauge how well she was actually holding up. He didn’t want to risk splinching, or her passing out upon arrival. Granger, of course, disagreed heartily and they spent the first ten minutes of their adventure arguing.

“Fine!” He eventually relented, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “But if you collapse or cut yourself in half, don’t expect me to come to your rescue.”

Then her hand was in his and they disappeared with a sharp  _ crack.  _

They didn’t talk much of the walk, and Draco could see she was struggling to keep a decent pace but every time he slowed down she stormed ahead, so Draco decided he was done feeling bad and doubled their pace. She kept up with him, panting and shoulders hunched, but she never complained. 

Eventually, they made it to a deserted beach. The wind was still whipping, but it no longer left him with a desperation so deep he felt he could die. He just felt empty and alone.

She reached for the map once more, turning it sideways and squinting before stowing it away in her beaded bag.

“This is it.”

Draco turned in a circle, searching for any signs of life or even an out of place cave, but came up empty. The waves washing up on the shore were the only sound 

“Heavy glamour, is it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know much about what I’m looking for, but we’re in the right place.”

She stepped forward, and Draco’s palms began to sweat. His heart pounded against his ribs and suddenly it hit just exactly what he was getting himself into. He reached out and grabbed onto her shoulder.

“Granger…”

She turned to him, eyes searching for a moment. 

“Draco…” she wet her lips, and Draco felt as if his entire presence were currently tied to hers, as if he might fall away from the earth if she weren’t here, tethering him to all the things that he could have never dreamt of, but were the only reality he had. 

“If things aren’t the same after this,” he began, because he needed to get it out now— because he’d kept her in this bubble for over two years, insisting that it could never be more than secret kisses and hallway shags, but now it was all about to burst, and he never imagined the first people he’d let know were the two men he’d spent most of his life despising. 

“Then I just want you to know that it was real. And maybe I did use you, and I definitely deserve whatever’s coming to me after this war, but I—“ he hesitated, unsure if the time was right, but when he looked up her eyes were locked on his and the color brown had never felt so pure and reassuring and he realized that timing had never been his strong suit. Or maybe it had— it didn’t matter anymore.

“I love you, and I loved what we had, even if it was improbable and imperfect. And no matter how things end between us after this, I’ll always love the time we shared together.”

Her lips were pressed together and her face was as unreadable as he remembered, but he could feel it. The tiny twinge of emotion that had connected them that first time on the Astronomy Tower, growing in intensity until it was all encompassing, surrounding the two of them with joy that didn’t have a place in war, but had never felt more right.

She grabbed his hand then, and squeezed lightly. It wasn’t a reply, but Draco’s shoulders relaxed anyway, because it was the exact answer he’d wanted. He was at his best when she didn’t give everything away. He wanted to know. And he would—when the time permitted. 

They stepped forward a few paces and then—

“ _ Hermione!”  _

A scream of two very familiar, very obnoxious voices sounded through. Draco peered up and watched as a tiny cabin appeared by the shore and the two other parts of the Golden Trio raced off the front steps towards them. 

Draco released Granger’s hand just in time for her to get swept up in between the two boys, in an embrace that had him flinching. He bit his tongue in an effort to stop himself from telling them to loosen up on her tired body.

Tiny cries slipped from Granger’s lips and Potter smoothed her hair down lovingly while Weasley whispered in her ear. 

He couldn’t hear what was being said, but Granger’s shoulders visibly relaxed and Draco couldn’t even assume. 

Logistically, he knew the three of them held a special kind of love for each other. He thought about it more than he’d like to admit. 

He’d recognized that in their actions that, most of the time, bordered on absolute recklessness. They’d do anything for each other.

He thought about his friends, about Pansy healing his hands and Theo and Blaise begging him to run away. He couldn’t say for certain if they’d scream or save him if he was being tortured, and they most certainly wouldn’t hug and cry in a display as raw as this one.

But they loved each other, in their own way. Even if it didn’t look like this. 

They stood like that for a while, until Weasley’s shoulders stopped shaking and Granger’s sobs were stifled. 

When they pulled apart, both sets of eyes immediately fell to Draco. 

Weasley stepped forward first, arms crossed over his chest and a surprisingly hard to read look on his face. 

Angry? Not exactly. Irritated? Probably. But it was more than that. 

He turned back to Granger. 

“By the time we were making our escape we could hear the chaos upstairs. It was hard to make out what they were saying, but we heard the words  _ Draco,  _ a less tasteful nickname for you, and  _ gone.”  _ He glanced over his shoulder at Draco. 

“It wasn’t the ideal situation, but…” Potter shrugged his shoulders. “We still aren’t sure. But we thought if you were with Malfoy, then you were safe. Safer than you had been, at least.” 

His eyes dropped, and it took Draco a moment to connect with the disappointment that the motion gave off. Draco recognized it, right down to his very core, but he’d never seen it in the Boy who Lived eyes. Because— because Draco had done something he hadn’t been able to, and it didn’t matter to Potter if this was a matter of circumstance or that he was literally  _ locked in a basement  _ and unable to get to Granger— all that he saw was his inability to save her, and Draco’s willingness to.

It didn’t make everything between them go away… but it did give him an edge where he’d previously had nothing. And maybe it wasn’t fair, or even healthy for Draco to take advantage of this, but he needed every leg up he could get. 

“So,” Potter began, throwing his arms around Granger’s shoulder in a way that felt strangely brotherly before gazing back at Draco. “Where are you headed to now?”

Silence. Granger froze with her hand in her hair, halfway tucked behind her ear. Draco’s eyes widened. Potter’s head moved between the two of them a few times before it clicked. He turned to Granger with his lips pressed together. 

“You… want Malfoy… to come with us?” His words were little more than a hiss between his teeth. 

Granger shimmied out from between the two boys and grabbed Draco’s hand. Weasley’s eyes fell to them for a single, telling moment before he pulled them to the sky, face going red. 

“I’ll meet you guys inside. I’m sure Bill and Fleur are waiting to see what’s going on.”

He turned on his heel before anyone could respond. 

It wasn’t the screaming match Draco had imagined, but the result was similar. Weasley was pissed. Hiding his emotions better than Draco would have guessed, but the truth was written all over his face. 

Granger turned back to Potter, eyes wide and fingers squeezing Draco’s palm just a little too tightly. 

“He can help us.”

“He could also ruin us,” Potter followed up quickly. “He betrayed you once already, who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

Draco cringed, taking a step back and releasing Granger’s hand, because, ouch. It was so spot on and so jarring in its truth that it felt like a physical blow. 

“He got me out of there, what more proof do I need?”

Potter crossed his arms over his chest, eyes flashing to Draco’s hunched form for just a moment. 

“It could all have been a plan. For him to spy on us and stop us from collecting what we need to collect. Perhaps even kill us.”

Granger snorted. “Do you really think I’d put us all in jeopardy if I wasn’t sure?”

“You slept with Malfoy for nearly two years even though you weren’t sure.”

A beat of silence. 

“That was different,” Granger answered in a controlled tone. “The stakes were lower back then.”

Potter shifted from one foot to the other. “Which is exactly why we can’t go and change the plan now. Everything relies on this.” He lifted his chin higher. “On us.”

And Draco understood it, for just a moment. The appeal that Harry Potter had. Because he was standing there, talking about saving the world as if it were normal afternoon tea conversation and including Granger, as if it had to be that way. Like there was no other option. It made the task seem important and fulfilling. 

It made him want to be a part of it.

“I did it to save my family.”

Perhaps he didn’t need to say anything, because Granger probably had a convincing speech ready. But for some reason, he  _ needed  _ to say it, needed to be worthy of Potter’s plan. 

“I’m not saying it was the best decision, or that I even thought it through properly.” He forced himself to hold the eye contact, to feel brave for  _ once  _ in his fucking life. “But at the time, I didn’t feel like I had any other choice. And I’m sorry for that.” He switched his gaze to Granger. “I’m so fucking sorry because maybe I could have changed things, helped stop the war before it even happened…”

He took a deep breath, stepping forward until he was just a few feet from both of them. 

“But if I think about it too much, if I turn it over in my head anymore than I already have, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Potter’s eyes stayed glued to his, but Draco could sense them softening. His shoulders were less stiff than before. He was making sense.

“I don’t want to contribute to a cause I don’t believe in anymore, and I don’t want to run away either.” He paused. “I want to fight with you.”

The silence that stretched out afterwards was unbelievably painful, with just the sound of the ocean to buffer. Draco fought the urge to fidget and shift his feet. 

Potter looked so fearless staring at him, analyzing him with his emotions written all over his face and  _ nothing  _ to hide. He was so vulnerable right now, and Draco could only imagine how emotional this entire reunion had been for him. 

Granger had been gone for two days. God, Draco could see it in his expression right now. The deep lines under his eyes, the red streaks in his iris from holding back tears. The small, defeated slump to his shoulders. 

He was giving everything away, but he was still  _ strong.  _ He countered Draco’s take on being a man in so many ways. He let himself feel, let all the people that had been taken away and used against him tear him down until he was the rawest form of human emotion, scared and lashing out and unsure, and he  _ still  _ got up everyday, ready to fight and save anyone that was left. Despite the odds, or his chance of death.

“Last year, when Hermione told me she’d seen your Dark Mark, I can’t say I was surprised.” Potter shook his head slowly. “We went straight to Dumbledore, of course, and you can imagine the look on my face when he wasn’t surprised.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. Granger watched on in silence. Everything outside of the three of them ceased to move, stopped existing. 

“He told me that whatever happened with you was all part of the plan and I was not to intervene.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, voice falling to a whisper. “And I saw you, up on the Astronomy Tower, with a look that told me how much you didn’t want to do it.”

“I didn’t,” he insisted, sounding desperate but losing his ability to care. “I thought I was capable but I’m not. I’m not a killer.”

“I know,” Potter answered. “And I still don’t know what Dumbledore meant by all that being a part of the plan. But I trust him. And I don’t have all the answers, but… if you’re okay with a lot of chaos and few solutions…” Potter shrugged. “I trust Hermione. If she trusts you, then I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

Potter stuck out his hand. Draco hesitated, mouth open for a moment before he thrust his forward. 

“Right then,” Granger said, clearing her throat. “Shall I go talk to Ron? Or…”

Potter shook his head. “Maybe I should be the one to do it. Break it to him slowly.”

He turned on his heel and left. Granger was quiet for a while longer, staring out at the ocean with a strange look of concentration. She moved away from him eventually, beckoning him to follow her along the shoreline.

“I suppose I should fill you in on everything we have.” At her sides, her hands fidgeted with her jumper. “I don’t know exactly where to start.”

When she did find the words, Draco listened without a single interruption. He had dozens of questions float through his mind, but he was stunned into silence. 

Horcruxes. Mysterious patronuses and cursed lockets. Some of the closest calls that had Draco gritting his teeth at their stupidity and carelessness.

“It’s no wonder you three haven’t been captured before the Manor.” He clenched his fists tight in his pocket. Somehow, he’d managed to keep the venom and anger out of his voice. 

“Luck has had a lot to do with it, but don’t downplay us.” Granger narrowed her eyes at him. Behind her, the sun had begun to set. “We’re skilled duelers and we think on our feet.”

“You take unnecessary risks.”

“We’re willing to do whatever we need to in order for this war to end. Sometimes that means running into things without a solid plan.” She straightened the collar of her shirt. “I think we’ve done quite well with what we have been given.”

Draco shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now either way,” he muttered. “Where do we go from here?”

She gestured to the cabin behind them that was now almost completely cloaked in darkness. “Time to face everyone and find that out.”

Bill and Fleur welcomed him into the home with uncomfortable smiles and awkward small talk. They hugged Granger closely and fawned over her as if she were their own blood. Draco observed discreetly, under the guise of finishing the piping hot stew that had been set in front of him. 

By midnight, everyone, including Weasley, seemed to be settled enough to come up with a plan. They four of them sat on old, peeling leather couches around a rickety coffee table and leaned forward, going back and forth a bit.

“Bellatrix was awfully concerned about what was missing from her vault,” Potter began. “That sounds like the best place to start.”

Draco opened and closed his jaw several times before speaking. “ _ That’s  _ the best place to start? And how do you suppose we go about doing that?”

Granger put her beaded bag on the table. 

“I might have a solution to that.”

\---

Crazy. Delusional. Absolutely out of their mind.

Draco had posed all these while they structured their plan.

He was met with glares and nasty comments.

Everyone else was on board. They all discussed the semantics and risks as if they hadn’t just come up with the most twisted, out of this world solution to, what Draco thought was, easily solved with bribery.

“We don’t have any money and we’re all wanted criminals here, yourself included,” Weasley had snapped. “If we aren’t sneaking, we aren’t making it into  _ anywhere.” _

He was overruled. And now, he was stuck crouching under an invisibility cloak with Potter’s shoulder cramming into his own uncomfortably while Granger gave the worst performance of aunt Bella that Draco had ever imagined.

The  _ Imperius Curse  _ had been Potter’s idea. Draco was loathe to admit it hadn’t even crossed his mind. It grated his nerves that Potter seemed to be more skilled in the Dark Arts than he was. 

From there, things went from crazy and unbelievable to an absolute shit show within a few minutes. 

He thought he’d die in that vault, for a moment. There wasn’t a logical way out and they were suffocating under the ever expanding items. 

Of course, once they were in the air, on the back of a  _ bloody dragon,  _ Draco realized logic held no place with the Golden Trio.

They were insane. Barking mad. 

Once they were on the shore, soaked to the bone and shivering from the wind, Draco turned to Granger. 

“How do we destroy it?”

Granger bit her lip and shrugged, eyes concerned.

“We’ve lost the sword. It was the only thing we had that damaged the locket. So…”

Draco pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. “Great, another loose hand.”

“Get used to it.” Weasley threw on a clean shirt, and, surprisingly passed Draco a dry one as well. “It’s frustrating, but at least we made some progress today.”

“Well then, now what?”

Potter’s eyes were down, focused on redressing. Granger had disappeared behind a nearby rock to change her own clothing. Weasley simply shook his head. 

“Hogwarts,” Potter eventually answered. “We need to discuss heading back to school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the ending was so rushed, but gosh I HATE rehashing canon events when I have no plan on changing them.
> 
> Battle of Hogwarts next. Then the final chapter.


	11. The Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some canon events may be slightly out of order, just to better fit the flow of the chapter

Draco wasn’t ready to go back to Hogwarts. Draco wasn’t ready to see the castle or any of the people in it. Not the professors, not the students. Not even the fucking house elves. 

He didn’t want to see the confused looks of the Slytherins, who were all still loyal to the Dark Lord, or the angry glares of the other houses. 

But, it didn’t matter. He was walking through the portrait hole to the Room of Requirement from the Hog’s Head before he could voice his objections. 

“I should turn back and find a different way,” he whispered to Granger. “They won’t accept me.”

“If Harry vouches for you then you’ll be all right. There are bigger things to worry about tonight.” She was walking quickly, dust puffing up behind her shoes. The distraction that the impending battle brought was evident on her face. 

“They’ll put me in binds before anything can be said.” He latched onto her shoulder and pulled her to a stop. She finally turned and faced him. “You’ve no idea what I’ve done to the people in there.”

Longbottom's face flashed in his mind, grimacing in pain and holding back screams. When he’d appeared in the Hog’s Head, Draco couldn’t make eye contact. He stayed as far back as possible, hoping to fall into the shadows. 

“Draco.” Granger lifted a palm to cradle his cheek. “It’s time to move forward. Part of that means facing  _ head on  _ all the people you’ve wronged.”

They stood for a moment longer, the rest of the group lingering just a few paces ahead, probably listening on but having enough decency to act as if they couldn’t hear. Eventually, Draco nodded his head in agreement. 

“Let’s get this over with, then.” 

Up ahead, there was a stream of light and a murmur of voices. Draco’s stomach clenched and twisted and he thought he might vomit. 

Granger grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Afterwards you’ll deal with it all. But right now I just need you to keep your head held high and give support in any way needed.”

So he did. He went through the portrait hole, pretending as if he couldn’t hear the shocked gasps and foul names thrown at him. Potter explained his switch in loyalties vaguely, but quickly moved on to the more important matters at hand. 

Ginny Weasley, Finnegan and Dean Thomas continued to stare for a long time afterwards. Weasley went over to his sister and they exchanged heated whispers, but eventually she dropped her malice and joined Potter and Granger. 

There were bleeding and bruised people everywhere. Blankets were spread haphazardly on the ground and pillows were thrown into a corner. 

He slowly approached Longbottom, whose eye was a sickly green color. He was in conversation with a Ravenclaw and two Hufflepuffs, hands moving animatedly. 

“I can heal you,” he said abruptly. 

All four heads turned to Draco in unison. Longbottom’s brow furrowed for a moment before he shrugged. 

“If Harry trusts you, that's enough for me. For now.”

Draco pressed his lips together and drew his wand up to Longbottom’s eye. 

When he was done, he pulled away slowly. 

“Thanks,” he said, gingerly touching his brow. “There are others here that might warm up to you a bit more, if you did this for them.”

Draco spent the next hour or so walking around and healing any injuries he could. He wasn’t particularly skilled, and sometimes he’d twist his wand too hard or cast too strongly and they’d flinch away. For the most part, however, they walked away with a muttered thanks and unsure look on their faces. 

Eventually, Granger came up to him. 

“We’ve got to go now. They’ve summoned all students to the Great Hall.” She handed him a set of robes and burgundy tie. “This is all they have in here, sorry.”

Draco took the robes but discarded the tie onto the floor.

“If I can get to the Slytherins, I think there are a few I can convince to fight with us.”

Behind them, Ginny scoffed. Longbottom’s head shot up.

“Draco…” Granger began, biting her lip. “That sounds like an awful idea. You could end up captured. We need you out there, fighting.”

Draco clenched his jaw. “Listen, if I had to sit through and listen to your awful Bellatrix impression and nearly drown in valuables, then you should at least consider my idea.”

They were being propelled forward now, and Draco threw on his robes hastily as he was shoved towards the middle of the pack.

“Your hair is too obvious,” Weasley said. “Keep your head down and stay in the center.”

He looked towards the Trio. They were still dressed in their regular clothes. “You aren’t coming?”

Granger shook her head. “The Order is about to join us at the front. You need to go, though. We haven’t the time to explain your switch in loyalties before they’ll start firing at you.”

Draco gawked. “What do you mean?” He gestured towards Weasley. “Wouldn’t his brother have told them?”

Weasley shook his head. “Communication is limited. Something like that would have been saved for the next Order meeting, considering they weren’t even aware of our whereabouts anyways. There hasn’t been a meeting since they met up with us.”

Potter appeared at his side. “I’m going with you. Come on.”

Draco set a desperate stare on him. 

“I have Slytherin friends. If they see me, if I could just talk to them—“

Potter shook his head. “And what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not. Please.” He tried not to sound like he was begging. 

But he was. Salazar, what had his life come to?

They were nearly to the Great Hall now, converging with Ravenclaw. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a blur of green. 

Potter squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before letting out a puff of air. “If you’re seen, you’re dead.  _ Don’t  _ do anything reckless.”

Draco pulled his robe tighter around him and slowed his pace, letting the hoards of people pass him. Most seemed to be too focused on what was about to happen to pay him any mind. He hid behind an alcove and waited. 

When the Slytherins walked past him, he searched for Pansy’s dark hair or Theo’s glasses. When he spotted his three friends walking together, he slithered back into the crowd. They were in the last row of students. 

“Pansy,” he whispered when he was right behind them. She turned at his voice, wide eyes landing on him before she wrapped him in a tight embrace. 

“Hands off!” He clawed her fingers from around his neck. “Don’t look suspicious and just listen.”

They were at the back of the crowd, and only Theo and Blaise seemed to notice her out of character behavior. Theo visibly paled when his eyes landed on him. Blaise’s mouth dropped open. 

“I don’t have time,” he began, sinking in between the group. “I’ll explain after the war is over but  _ right now  _ I’m saving all your arses from Azkaban.”

“How?” Blaise whispered back. His eyes were pasted on Snape. They were nearly with the rest of the houses. 

“When the time comes, don’t fight with the Death Eaters and don’t run.”

Pansy’s eyebrows flew into her hairline. “Are you mad?”

“Fight for Potter’s side with me or enjoy your prison life.”

They were in the hall now, standing with the other students. It was deadly quiet. No one said a thing. 

Snape began speaking, and Potter made his grand debut. There were gasps and screams, and suddenly Snape was gone and the Slytherins were being sent to the dungeons. 

Draco grabbed onto Pansy’s hand. 

“Don’t go.”

She hesitated, watching as her other classmates disappeared behind the double doors. Theo and Blaise stood a few feet away, looking just as unsure. People were starting to notice Draco and whispers were spreading. 

“You guys took care of me this entire time. Let me repay the favor and save your future.”

Pansy squeezed his hand and gave a small, soft smile. She looked back at Theo and Blaise, who were stepping closer to them. 

Draco looked at Potter. He nodded and turned to the Order members behind him. 

“Malfoy’s with us. I can explain later, but for now just know he can be trusted.”

Potter’s word truly was gospel. No one gave them a second look after that. 

Chaos spread after that. The entire castle was covered in a cloak of smoke. There were pieces of broken brick scattered around the floor, tripping Draco every so often. Dust puffed into the air and burned into his eyes. He was choking on the fumes. 

He couldn’t find Granger anywhere. Pansy, Theo and Blaise stuck closely to his side, coughing and squinting through the screen of smog. 

On the second floor, Longbottom came up to the four of them. Beside him, Pansy stiffened. 

Until Longbottom came up to her, grabbed her and kissed her on the lips. 

Draco felt like he might vomit. Behind him, Blaise let out a sound of disgust. Theo stumbles backwards. 

When they finally parted, their foreheads touched together. 

“If things go wrong tonight, I just wanted you to know that I missed you, and I wish things were different.” 

And then Longbottom was gone.

Pansy’s lips were parted and her cheeks were flushed. Theo pushed her shoulder lightly. 

“Longbottom. Since fifth year?”

Pansy shrugged, eyes still on Longbottom’s retreating form. “What else is there to say about it?”

Draco pushed her forward. “Nothing for now. Come on, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Blaise asked. 

“We’re looking for Granger or Weasley.”

“Which Weasley?”

Draco hesitated. “Any of them, I guess. Preferably the oaf one though.”

Pansy glared at him out of the corner of her eye as they rushed up a flight of stares. “Are you going to tell me where you went and why you’re suddenly so buddy buddy with the Chosen One and his followers?”

Draco shook his head. “In due time. For now, just keep an eye out.”

There were spells being fired in all directions when they reached the third floor. There were so many more people up here, both lying on the floor and dueling. Flashes of blues and purples flew past them with such great speed. Draco stopped, looked for a place to hide and threw himself behind a fallen pillar. The others followed. 

He could hear the screams of others. Some of them sounded so young. The sound of bodies hitting the floor became a symphony, an Ode de Death. 

“We’re going to die.” Theo said nonchalantly. “We’re going to die because Draco convinced us jail was a worse option.”

“It is, and we aren’t going to die,” Draco said, peering over the top of the pillar. “We just need to be smart about our next move.”

Pansy looked around slowly, lips pursed. “We could just stay here.”

From the corner of his eye, Draco spotted wild, frizzy braids. He gasped and turned towards his friends. 

“It’s time to move. Wands at the ready?”

The other three looked at each other for a moment before raising their wands and nodding. 

“Follow my lead.”

It took about forty five seconds for them to make their way to Granger and Weasley, who were running up another flight of stairs. 

“Hermione!” he called out, refusing to acknowledge what the change in name meant. 

She turned around and slowed slightly at the sight of him. 

“We need to get to the room of requirement. Harry thinks there’s Horcrux there. He’s already got the clue and Ron and I have just been to the Chamber of Secrets for Basilisk fangs.” 

Blaise’s jaw dropped open. “You’ve just  _ what  _ from  _ where?” _

Weasley shook his head. “There’s no time to explain. Harry’s meeting us there. Are you coming, or not?”

They all picked up their pace. 

In the room of requirement, they searched high and low, tossing things at Potter and sighing in frustration when he shook his head. The amount of times they asked “this?”, or “is this the one?” was enough to raise Draco’s temper. 

“A crown,” Potter repeated for the millionth time. “It looks like a crown.”

“We’re in a room full of  _ valuable things,  _ Potter,” Pansy said with her thumb and forefinger pinching her nose. “There are about a thousand different crown types in here.”

It took them another half hour or so before Potter’s eyes widened at an object in Blaise’s hand. 

“That’s it! Hermione, hand me a fang! Ron give me the cup!”

The two objects were gone within the next five minutes. They all sat in silence for a moment, breathing heavily. 

“Now what?”

“The snake,” Potter answered. “The snake and then Voldemort himself.” He gestured towards Granger and she began passing out basilisk fangs. 

“Whoever gets to the snake first, kill it. This ends tonight.”

“We’ll split up to cover more ground,” Weasley answered.

\---

The Dark Lord’s voice was in his mind again. 

Potter was being called to the woods. The Death Eaters had vanished. 

No. No, Potter couldn’t give up now. But Draco knew he would. He knew he would head to the woods and do what he thought was right. 

Draco dropped the rubble he’d been cleaning up and ran to the front of the castle. There, Weasley and Granger were already there with Potter. 

Granger was crying. Weasley was hugging Potter. 

Draco shoved him harshly into the brick. 

“We are  _ dead  _ without you. You can’t just go.”

Potter shook his head. “You don’t need me anymore. The snake is the last horcrux. You guys can kill it. After that, he’ll barely be here at all. It won’t be hard from here on out.”

“Won’t be hard?” Draco asked. “Are you mad? I saw what those other horcruxes did and they were  _ inanimate. _ ”

Potter pressed his lips together and dropped his eyes. “Too many have died tonight. If it stops the fighting, it’s worth it. Besides. I  _ have  _ to go. You don’t understand, but I have to die tonight.”

“No!” Draco threw his arms into the air. “No one else needs to die tonight.” 

Draco gestured behind him. People that were still standing were checking pulses, throwing blankets and cloaks over the dead bodies. Sobs echoed all the way down the hallway. The ground was smeared in blood. 

Potter took a step towards the open doors. A small fire was blazing outside. 

“I’m going. I’m going now.” 

With that, he ran down the stairs and was gone.

Draco turned towards Granger. Her eyes were shining with tears. Streaks lined her dirty face. 

“Let’s go,” she said, eyes still on Potter’s form. “There’s no time to waste.”

He could feel her Occlumency walls breaking down. He could see it in the quiver of her fingers, the defeated hunch in her shoulders. 

But still, she carried on. 

\---

When Hagrid came with the rest of the Death Eaters, carrying Potter’s limp body, Draco felt a little piece of his soul wither away. 

Potter was  _ good.  _ Not in the typical, light hearted and friendly type, but in the can’t bear the thought of anyone dying for him way. 

He didn’t deserve to go like this. Even if they didn’t need him for the rest of the war, he deserved to survive. 

Ginny Weasley screamed. The Dark Lord asked for more fighters, and Longbottom stepped forward. Across the yard, he could see his parents, beckoning towards him. He took Granger’s hand and shook his head. 

Longbottom pulled a sword out of the sorting hat and Potter popped out of Hagrid’s arms. Draco was so shocked he staggered backwards a few steps. Ahead of him, throughout the chaos, he watched as his parents backed away from the other Death Eaters, eyes on him the entire time. 

“The snake,” Granger screamed out. “We have to find the snake.”

Pansy met up with Longbottom, basilisk fang in hand. Granger, Draco and Weasley took to the opposite side of the castle to search for Nagini. 

She was cornered eventually, Longbottom and Pansy circling in on her just as the three of them turned the corner. Draco was just a few steps away when Longbottom chopped her head off. 

Around them, there were screams and flashes of light. The sun was rising high in the sky, but it was difficult to see through the smoke that surrounded the castle. 

The battle stopped slowly, after that. Blaise walked around with the dead snake around his shoulders, flinging it at any of the Death Eaters that had decided to remain after Potter’s revival. The sight of the last horcrux, visibly destroyed, was enough to cause them to apparate away. 

There were dead bodies scattered on the ground. As they passed, Granger flipped them over and levitated them behind her, looking at each of their faces intently. 

Some were classmates. Some were parents of classmates. Others were siblings, friends, aunts and uncles and everything in between. By the time they made it to the Great Hall, there was a line of fifteen bodies behind her. 

Draco stayed off in the corner of the Great Hall, along with Pansy and Theo. Blaise walked to the center, where a collection of Death Eater bodies was. He tossed Nagini’s headless figure on top. 

He watched as Granger and the Weasley’s embraced one of the twins, who seemed to be gravely injured but still breathing. The other twin sat next to him, hand around his shoulders. 

To the left, Lavender Brown was cradling a werewolf bite with quiet sobs as Madam Pomfrey whispered to her. 

Pansy knocked her shoulder with his and then gestured to the door. Through it, he could see two very familiar white blonde heads. Draco stood up straighter and watched silently as they approached him. 

Pansy grabbed Theo’s hand and dragged him away. 

“Draco.”

“Mother. Father.” He nodded his head. 

“What happened?” His mother blurted out. “That night in the manor, when you disappeared…”

Draco dropped his eyes and shrugged. “I was never given a choice. And maybe if I had been, I would have still chosen the path that was given to me… but that night, looking at someone I went to school with being tortured, I just knew I could do better. So I did.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was the best he could give them for now. He couldn’t bear the look in their eyes if they knew everything.

“How have you been since then?” his father asked in a cloaked voice. His face was a stone wall. Draco couldn’t read anything. 

“I’ve fared okay. Better than the two of you, I assume.” He didn’t mention that his knees could buckle with relief at seeing them alive. He didn’t have it in him, anymore. 

Before they could answer, they were interrupted by the arrival of Kingsley Shackelbolt. He looked exhausted, but powerful. 

Kingsley held up his wand until the three of them set theirs on the ground. 

“I’m sure this comes to no surprise,” Shackelbolt stated as he bound their arms and hands, though he did sound slightly remorseful. 

Of course they’d been waiting for it. And at this point, why put up a fight? Behind Shackelbolt, Draco could see aurors doing the same to Theo and Blaise. Pansy was cursing and resisting beside them.

Granger ran up beside Shackelbolt. 

“You can’t do this, sir. Not to any of these students! They fought beside me the entire night!”

“Hermione, I’m sorry, but they’ve all got Death Eater ties here. Until that can be examined fully and we can decide their sentence, they need to be kept under strict supervision.”

“Where was this supervision for Harry, Ron and I when we were being hunted and taken to Malfoy Manor to be tortured?”

Shackelbolt stiffened. His mother gasped. 

“Hermione, now's not—“

“Malfoy saved me and he’s been with us ever since! Blaise made the rest of the Death Eaters disappear and Pansy was those close to killing the last horcrux!”

“Hermione please—“

“What kind of message is this sending about the justice system if you refuse to let reformation happen?”

Her voice was growing desperate and Draco could sense her fear rising. 

So much had been taken from her. There was so much she couldn’t process. Maybe she thought she’d never need to. But the war didn’t stop when the fighting did. Things would wage on for years afterwards, as people coped with a new world and their fears that now wouldn’t be so easily stifled. An entire generation, traumatized and unprepared with how to deal with it. 

And here Granger was, wasting her time on Draco.

“Granger, stop.”

Draco’s voice seemed to shake her out of whatever spiral she was going down. She turned towards him with her head tilted to the side. 

“We know what happened at the manor and what happened here tonight, so don’t worry about it. There are witnesses and all that to vouch for it. Let it go, for now. There are more important things to deal with.”

“I will not let it go!” She stalked towards him and grabbed him by the front of the shirt. “You don’t deserve to go to Azkaban for this!” 

Draco pressed his lips together. “Yes, I kind of do. I made my own decisions here. I’m prepared to pay the price for them.” He lowered his voice slightly. “And I know you’ll be there, on the outside fighting for me. But for now, go celebrate and mourn with your family.” He chucked his chin at Potter and Weasley, who were staring a few feet away. 

Granger licked her lips. There were tears in her eyes again. “But I want to celebrate with you.”

Draco shook his head, wishing his hands weren’t bound so he could run his fingers through her disheveled hair.

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea for us to get some time apart. To figure—“ he looked towards his parents, whose sharp eyes were taking everything in. “To figure out who we are outside of this war.”

Her bottom lip quivered. “I love you, Draco.”

Draco lifted his eyes to hers. Brown and soft and so reassuring it hurt. 

“If you still feel that way when I get out, I’ll be here.” 

Shackelbolt was pulling her gently away then, and she stepped back slowly, nodding her head and keeping her eyes locked on his. They were hard, but forgiving. Understanding. 

“I’ll get you out,” she called after him. 

He walked forward, parents behind him. He couldn’t look back, couldn’t bear to feel it any longer. 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my NQDM folks KNOW I wasn’t about to let Fred die   
> Working on the final chapter now. Hoping to get it posted tonight so I can mark this as a complete work.


	12. Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written like 10k words in the past 24 hours so if this is poorly edited, I'm truly sorry.  
> BUT HERE'S THE FINAL CHAPTER

In the end, Draco had spent five weeks in an Azkaban prison cell before he was conditionally released. His time in there had been even more awful than he had imagined. He was cold, from his toes right down to the core of his soul. He didn't think he would ever get all the dirt scrubbed off his scalp.

Potter and Weasley had come to visit him about two weeks in. 

“We’ve asked her to stay away while you’re in here. Not because we think you’re bad for her, or anything,” Potter corrected with his hands in the air. “But because seeing you in your Azkaban robes would stress her out.”

“She’s out of her mind enough as it is,” Weasley added. “We all went through a lot during the war but… well her time in Malfoy Manor was extremely tough. And she was alone for a good chunk of it.”

Draco pressed his lips together tightly, nodding with his eyes glued to the table. He didn’t want a reminder of Malfoy Manor. If he ever made it back, he’d burn the living room to the ground. 

“We don’t blame you for how things went down, Malfoy,” Potter whispered. “We just want her to get some space from you so that she doesn’t stay with you due to some hero complex because you saved her.”

“Makes sense, but I think we all know Granger is smarter than that.” He wished his voice wasn’t bitter. He wished he wasn’t so angry at himself and his decisions. 

He wanted to move forward so, so badly. Part of him felt like he wasn't worthy of moving on. Some days he wanted to sit and think about all the wrong decisions he had made in his life. He wanted to hate himself as much as he deserved, to sit with it until he was as mad as Voldemort.

Weasley shrugged. “We’ve all been seeing a grief and trauma therapist or something. They said this was a natural psychological reaction.” 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel the beginnings of a headache ebbing at his temples. 

“So Granger’s only professed her love for me because she’s traumatized?”

Potter shook his head, eyes going wide. “No! That’s not what we’re saying at all! Just that her view of you and what you did could create— I don’t know, an unhealthy attachments of sorts and—“

“And Hermione needs to learn to be Hermione before she learns to be anything else.”

And they were right, of course. He’d been seeing the same trauma counselor. But it still hurt to hear, to know the person you loved wasn’t in the right mental state to start something you  _ so badly  _ wanted. 

Conditional release. It was exactly what he had expected, but it didn't mean he wasn't absolutely pissed about it. He was to return to Hogwarts for his final year and after that, a ministry job of his choice. Within reason. 

Draco had scoffed at that. 

He’d never known what his path was going to be, but trying his hand at  _ ministry cronie  _ was never on the list. 

Potter and Weasley checked in on him once more when he’d returned to the Manor. 

It was empty, mostly. He still had the house elves, but his parents were gone. 

His dad was facing a long sentence in Azkaban. His mother was looking at house arrest in France. For some reason, it seemed imperative that she not be allowed to return to the Manor. 

They filled him in on life outside, which he’d gotten very little information about. He wasn’t allowed to leave the Manor until school began and he had very strict visitation rules. Pansy, Blaise and Theo had been out after only a week, having very weak ties to anything Death Eater related. But still, they were not given permission to stop in and see him. 

“And Granger?” he’d asked, throat dry and voice gruff. He’d waited over an hour to inquire. He figured that was long enough. 

Potter grimaced. “She’s coping, maybe best out of all of us. But…” he shrugged. “Her parents' memories won’t be recovered.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “Says who?”

“Everyone,” Weasley answered, twiddling with a loose thread on his shirt. “Apparently the curse encompasses too many memories and too much time has passed. She’s gone right now, off to Australia to… I don’t know, observe them I suppose.”

Draco clenched his fists. “I should be there. I should at least send her a floo message.”

Potter shook his head. “It’s not the right time. She’s just now coming to terms with her anger towards you.” He set a pitying gaze on Draco. “You know it’s best she works through it all before she sees you again.”

The next few weeks passed in full misery. Weasley and Potter weren’t his friends, they couldn’t even be considered acquaintances. He repeated that to himself like a mantra, because if he'd sunk to low enough levels to find companionship with his childhood enemies, he didn't think there was enough firewhiskey in the world to help him cope. They didn’t stop by again. 

On September first, while Draco waited on the platform for the train to arrive, he watched with a tight chest as the Golden Trio passed through the wall, practically arm in arm. For the first time since the battle, he laid eyes on Hermione Granger. 

Her hair was still pulled back into two, taught braids. Draco missed her hair, missed the wildness of her curls that synced with her unruly personality. Some things, Draco thought, didn’t stay the same, no matter how badly you wanted them to.

She looked healthier, having gained back some of the significant weight she’d lost during her time in the woods. Her face had a bit more color, and as she approached the train to board, there was a small smile on her face. 

All eyes seemed to fall on the trio as more people realized they were there. Things quieted for a moment, before more whispers began. They followed their every movement, but the three of them seemed to be in their own world, talking with their heads together as they made their way through the crowd.

Right before she boarded, as Draco’s heart sank to his stomach, she turned and pasted her gaze directly on his. She stopped, one foot on the pedestal to enter the train, the other planted firmly on the ground. She looked him up and down, face blank, before meeting his eyes once more, with a small smile and a wave. 

Draco lifted his fingers back at her, wanting nothing more than to run to her and encompass her in a hug that felt long overdue. 

But he’d made his decisions. He had to live with them. He could only hope that one day, she’d be able to come back to him.

\---

In the Great Hall, things were a bit different now. The newest Hogwarts class was much smaller than normal, even than the previous year. It seemed the fears of muggleborns didn’t end with the Dark Lord’s death.

The majority of the Slytherin class hadn’t returned. He sat sandwiched between Pansy and Theo, with Blaise across from them. They received many glares or confused stares, but overall everyone seemed to leave them be. 

He watched Granger the entire time. Watched as she ate with a controlled intensity that he didn’t recognize. Though, he could imagine that after being starved for so long, it was probably jarring to see so much food. Perhaps even overwhelming.

Sometimes someone would walk up behind her and she’d jump, gasp and become stiffer. It worried Draco to an annoying degree. 

Because she wasn’t healed, maybe not even to the amount that Potter and Weasley had been claiming. And it didn’t matter to Draco that she wasn’t the only one acting like this, that he’d witnessed Weasley stuffing bread rolls into his robe pockets, or that Finnegan had yelled at a young second year that had accidentally bumped into him.

No one else mattered to him like she did. To see her in pain, knowing he couldn’t help, was the hardest part of all. If he could take the entirety of the burden that was placed on her during war, and give it to himself, he would have done it in a heartbeat. He was becoming desperate to reconcile with the girl he'd shagged that first time.

After dinner, as he was filing out with the other students, Granger came up to him. He froze, glaring when a few other students made snide comments to him. She fiddled nervously with the sleeves of her robes.

“Malfoy.”

He nodded his head at her. “Granger.”

She threw her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to an all too familiar alcove. “Can I talk to you?”

Draco’s throat tightened, even as he headed to the corner. 

This was it. This was the moment she decided that she wouldn’t take him back, that she couldn’t be with someone with such a tarnished reputation. It was everything he wouldn’t let himself consider before.

When they were settled in opposite corners, she tilted her head at him. 

“How are you?”

He swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Fine. Glad to be out of the Manor.”

Granger nodded, her lips pressed together. “I’m sorry I didn’t come and visit you. Not in Azkaban, and not when you were home.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to come to the manor.”

“And Azkaban?”

Draco let out a dry chuckle. “I saw your name on my release papers. Your time away from me was well spent.”

She smiled, a real, genuine smile that made Draco’s heartache. “I told you I’d get you out.”

“I never had any doubts.”

It was silent for a moment. An awkward, telling silence. She had something to say, something she was afraid to voice out loud. 

“Say it,” he blurted out. “Please, just say it.”

She hesitated, mouth hanging open. 

“I’m angry at you. Perhaps more than I ever thought I would be.” She lifted her eyes to him and they were clear, and suddenly he got a glimpse of the girl in fifth year that held herself with such unbridled confidence and courage. He hadn’t realized how far away from that she’d fallen until now. 

“I deserve it.”

“Maybe so.” She tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to let you know that, for now,” she licked her lips and ducked her head, “I need some time and space to be angry.”

Draco pressed his lips together, building flimsy Occlumency walls and hoping he could make it back to his room before they crumbled.

“That’s fair.” His voice cracked and he cursed himself for his lack of Occlumency over the past few months. His therapist had said it was good for healing, but right now he just felt pathetic and weak.

“I think for now we go about things like we don’t really know each other. And— and as time progresses, if we’re able to naturally come together and create a friendship and maybe—” her cheeks reddened, and Draco was relieved to see he wasn’t the only one fumbling with their lack of Occlumency. “If there comes a time, when we’re both in the right state of mind, and we’re both still interested…” she raised her eyes to his, brown so alluring that he wanted to swim in it. “I still love you.”

Draco’s chest tightened. 

“But right now I also hate you. I hate you so much for what you did to me back in sixth year, because I loved you then, too. And I could have never done that to someone I loved.”

“Hermione—”

She held up her hand. “Please don’t. This is exactly why I need my time apart. Because you’ve done your part, you’ve asked for forgiveness and you’ve shown me your true self.” She pressed her lips together, staring at her hands. “I just need to work through it myself.”

He wanted so badly to reach out and touch her, to embrace her and show her all the things he’d do for her now that he knew better, now that he understood he was in charge of his own fate.

But instead, he pulled back a few steps and grabbed the tapestry. 

“I understand. And I’ll be here, waiting, when you’re ready.”

“It could be a long time,” she said.

“You’re worth it.”

\---

The first time they interacted, it was five weeks into the school year. 

Draco had been holding up okay, so far. Most people didn’t hold too hard of grudges against him after seeing him fight during the Battle of Hogwarts, and the fact that Potter, Weasley and Longbottom frequently sat at the Slytherin table during lunches, didn’t hurt at all.

He watched Granger a lot. Sometimes she caught her watching him. But they hadn’t talked since that first night.

Slughorn was pairing up students for their next Potions project. 

“Granger, Malfoy,” he read off. 

Draco opened his mouth to object, but she was already collecting her things and standing to move to his table.

_ Come together naturally _ , she had said.

Draco shut his jaw. This could count as natural.

“Granger,” he greeted once she’d sat down next to him. 

“Malfoy,” she replied. God, it felt so  _ good  _ to hear his name on her tongue. 

She turned to him, long braids falling gracefully down her back. 

“Are you ready to start?”

He smirked at her. “Never a better time than the present.”

\---

The first time they got together at the library, it was completely awkward. They’re near the spot where Draco had been out of his mind horny and she’d blown him, and he can’t stop thinking about it. Something about the flush in her cheeks made him think she couldn’t get it off her mind either.

They spent the majority of the time arguing, and not like they used to. There was no foreplay to this, no climax. They fought about things that didn’t matter, like which quill was the best for their final draft and which cauldron boiled the most even.

And Draco knows. He  _ knows  _ she’s picking these fights because it’s either this or actually talk about the real issues.

He has talked to his therapist a dozen times since he returned to school. He knows better than to bring up issues that have already found their natural conclusion. It takes everyone a different amount of time to move forward and find forgiveness. 

He knows this. He does. But still, sitting here and watching as Hermione fidgeted with her school robe and couldn’t make eye contact with her, he wished more than anything he could take it all away.

The pain he caused, the things he witnessed. Anything that would return her to the place she deserved to be.

She stormed away that night after he made a comment about being a reliable partner. He was trying to reassure her, reminding her that he took his schoolwork seriously. 

But all she sees is his broken promises and lies. She left abruptly, without her school bag or books. Potter turned up five minutes later to collect her things and gave him an apologetic shrug.

\---

They were in the library two weeks later, and the awkwardness had almost turned itself into a hostile environment. 

He had spent the entire school year watching as she opened up to everyone else, laughing and becoming someone that resembled a normal human rather than a shell.

She seemed to be recovering, in every aspect that didn’t relate to him.

When she snapped at him, he couldn't help it. Because he watched her repair herself and her relationships with everyone but him.

“You know what Granger? I’m done.”

She raised her eyebrows. “With the project?”

He scoffed, because she’d just finished reaming him out about arriving ten minutes late, even though he had a valid excuse, it didn’t matter. Yet, all she could think about was the project.

“I’m  _ trying.  _ I know you aren’t ready but god damn, I miss you. We sit here three times a week, I take your passive aggressive comments and stuff them in my head until they’re nearly overflowing and I’m so mad that my fists are clenched under the table, yet the moment you leave I  _ miss you.” _

She was stock still, eyes glued to his. 

"I know I messed up and I’m sorry but…” He dropped his eyes. “You have to stop thinking that I haven’t punished myself enough.”

Granger picked at some loose skin on her thumb. “Maybe we shouldn’t have agreed to work together.”

He grabbed his bag, and was gone.

\---

The next time they met up, Draco was miserable. 

He’d always known the option for Granger to not want him back was there, but Salazar, to have it placed in front of him so blatantly was another thing altogether. 

He wanted her. He wanted her so badly that he’d convinced himself he might even be worthy of it. He wanted long nights up together, reading and planning and plotting and whatever else came with being and staying in love.

But now, every second that passed seemed to be one that drew him further away from that reality.

So he sat down at their same library table, convinced he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eyes tonight.

She came and sat down next to him. He waited for her to pull her books out, but she stayed still. 

Eventually, he lifts his head with a raised brow.

“I was thinking,” Granger began slowly. “That maybe you could make an appearance at the next Ancient Runes study group.”

Draco squinted his eyes at her. She cleared her throat.

“Well, back in fifth and sixth year you used to be one of the more vocal participants, so now sometimes things can get awkwardly quiet. I’m not an expert at filling silences. And— and the other day, when we were discussing hieroglyphs, I was a bit lost, and you answered one of the questions, so…”

Draco hesitated. “You want me in your study group?”

She licked her lips. “Yes.”

\---

It didn’t happen overnight. 

He attended the study group three times before she approached him afterwards. 

“Thank you for coming.” 

Draco continued to put his books away. 

“You’re not the only one that’s looking for a high score in their NEWTS.”

She smiled, soft but genuine. Draco slowed his motions. 

“I have some knitted hats for the house elves in the kitchens. They always bake cookies on Wednesday.”

Draco paused in his motions. 

“If you wanted to join me.”

\---

They were sitting together at the library, knees knocking together. It was nearing Christmas break now, and they were working on their potions project. Their heads were together, close enough that he could feel a few of her loose hairs tickling at his temple.

He was in the middle of discussing something— lacewing flies related, he thinks— when she kissed him.

It’s warm and sweet— everything they’d never had time for previously. It wasn’t rushed and it doesn’t lead to anything else. No hair pulling or shoving of clothes. 

But it was so,  _ so  _ much better than anything he remembered.

When she pulled away, her face was flushed and she was breathing heavily.

But best of all, she was grinning right at him.

And for the first time, Draco felt worthy of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, a huge THANK YOU to everyone that his stuck with this story. It was supposed to be a one shot... I had absolutely no direction for it. The last few chapters left me absolutely unsure with what I wanted to do. You guys sent me love the entire way.  
> If you enjoyed this, please recommend it to others. It would mean so much to me.  
> If you want, come talk to me on tumblr, @hiccupfound. Send me an ask, anything really.  
> I have other dramione works, one of them is a WIP so check them out!  
> If you have any ideas for one shots you'd like to see in this universe, send me an ask on tumblr! I'm always taking requests!


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